#and it doesnt PROPERLY answer the question so much as it explains HOW it finally happens

[queenburd]

how long did it take, in your mind, for stanley and the narrator to become friendly?

hm.

one thing I have been certain of for a while is that the narrator acknowledged to himself and Stanley he cared about stanley (platonically, romantically was much much later) a long time before stanley acknowledged he reciprocated.

it isn't a secret to either of them that the narrator doesn't like the Confusion ending, the stairwell in the Zending, or the Not Stanley ending. Gosh, this is a hard question to answer considering how time is fluid and weird in the Parable. Its definitely pre-deluxe.

But it's after doing one of these endings again, after countless loops and the 430 achievement, really YEARS into the parable, that he really acknowledges to himself that he cares about Stanley, Stanley's happiness, and his wellbeing.

mind you, that isn't to say they don't have some kind of rapport by that point. it's not intentional as much as it is they get used to each other's nonsense.

wow, this post is a mess. lemme try this again.

in the first couple hundred runs, stanley finds nearly every bit of dialogue. he's an angry, irritable person who denounces every damn thing the narrator tells him and wants to piss the fellow off, make him snap. the countdown ending makes stanley unbelievably angry. the insanity ending as well. he hides in places where the narrator can't reach him, like the museum, the escape pod, the broom closet, the out of bounds window.

but while he is trying to anger the narrator, Stanley is in his core a good person, and he doesn't like or get catharsis out of the endings where the Narrator suffers, or gets upset, or confused. makes him feel unpleasant, and makes him acknowledge that the narrator only has him. for all the fellow claims to be a god of this world, he's even more alone than stanley.

so he avoids doing those endings after a while so he doesnt have to acknowledge this. But even so he's perceptive. he can't help noticing how the narrator.... fixates. mostly on the story. but on other things as well. like he cant help it.

So it's not intentional. it's a quirk. Stanley can't blame him for how he thinks. Doesnt mean stanley has to like it, tho.

on the narrator's end, he does recognize Stanley is avoiding those endings. he feels relief. not necessarily gratitude, because he thinks if Stanley becomes really very angry he'll do one of the endings just to hurt the Narrator ("i just wanted us to get along--") but relief that he hasnt pushed stanley too far this time.

he doesn't like seeing stanley hurt. and he doesnt like when stanley isn't there. and can't stanley realize the narrator made him a story with a happy ending? doesnt he see how the narrator wants him to be happy?

can't he see how much the narrator cares?

maybe he can't.

so the both of them, separately, have made this decision to be less cruel to the other. stanley is doing it to not have to acknowledge to himself that the narrator needs him, and the narrator is doing it because he has admitted to himself that he does care.

so that's.... maybe less than a thousand loops in. probably less than 800. and it isnt long after that that the narrator tells stanley he cares. that he doesn't expect stanley to change, or reciprocate his platonic fondness, but that he doesn't want stanley to suffer. they have to do the story, they don't have much choice, but the narrator will do what he can to make it bearable.

stanley honestly gets kind of mad abt it. he is still trying to tell himself the narrator is his warden, that the narrator just sees him as a puppet and is doing this to get Stanley to play along and behave, and it doesnt matter if the narrator is sincere because he is imprisoning stanley.

while it hurts the narrator, he understands it. he keeps his word, though. he tries to find ways to make the parable more free roaming, tries to be gentler in his scripted admonishments. he still gives it his all and he still cant ad lib too much but by god, he will give Stanley this.

it's after another trip to the Museum that it gets through Stanley's thick head that the Narrator is just as much a prisoner as he is. For all the Narrator thinks he made this world, he's wrong. he's just another person stuck alongside stanley, and while stanley has a body, the narrator has the parable. this is all the control he can have, and he doesn't even realize it.

it does change things for stanley. it's evident when he gets back to the office, and it all spills out.

the immediate aftermath is complicated. it all happens very quickly--the narrator reels from the realization, he wants to freak out, but then he's forced to compartmentalize because Stanley is having a real bad breakdown.

[because it's all true. he is code, all he is is code, there's no freedom, and there's not even anyone to be angry at, and he cant even die, he just exists like this forever, and he was taking it out on someone who had just as little control as he did, and what kind of fucked up person is he?]

to which the narrator thinks, nope, absolutely not. he will not allow this person he cares about to crack down the middle like this.

so, of all things, he doubles down on being "the enemy". no, Stanley, HE controls this world. This is HIS domain, Stanley doesn't have nearly the control over him that he seems to think. If Stanley wants to be angry and upset, be upset at him, fight him, just don't give up.

don't give up.

it's pretty obvious to the both of them that he's making a show of it. that he's doing it to lift Stanley's spirits. it still works, if only because Stanley cant help finding this bit of disbelieving humor that the narrator is trying to cheer HIM up.

the stupid fellow really does care.

and that's all it takes.

[sporksaber]

I'm gonna talk about that hp au because it lives in the back of my head like a stray cat that's wandered in and you cant get to leave.

So dumbledore dumbledied. Why? Because he's annoying and I dont want to deal with him. How? Idk, a curse with a ten year delay of smthn. Mcgonagall is head mistress now. (also, shes fifty-ish. We're ignoring the fact that jkr aged her up after the movies were cast and that she is bad at math in every adaptation and interview since.) She became headmistress the year prior to harry getting to school.

Mcgonagall isnt about to let any of the bullshit dumbledore allowed slide. So the teachers are going to be a bit different and when students have problems theyll be dealt with properly.

So, the crux of this au, harry is sorted into slytherin. He didn't sit with ron on the train, and didnt think to ask to not be slytherin. The hat asks what harry wants out of howgwarts and while harry can't verbally answer the hat is like, got it. Puts him into Slytherin. (Above all his wants, there was a stronger yearning for the ability to make his own way. To not just have but to create safety and family and win against the people pushing him down.)

His first year is fairly eventful. Quirrel is there and so is Snape. This time though, there is no Voldemort and the philosopher's stone isnt in Hogwarts. Quirrel is just a regular piece of shit wizard nazi.

Harry has a very visceral reaction to the things the slytherin students will say, so he doesnt get along with them. Snape is also an asshole, so he doesnt get along with him either. Draco is very much pulling pigtails the entire year because he wasnt properly socialized as a child and harry has pretty eyes.

Durring that year Harry gets in trouble a lot. He'll talk back to snape for being unfair and discriminatory, he calls out quirrel for being straight up wizard racist (as quirrel isnt possessed he is more assertive), he argues with his housemates be it draco or the occasional upperclassman who is causing trouble.

He's also not good at school. Harry's hatred of studying in the original was never explained (i think jkr didnt want to do the extra world building). But in this he is just very much behind his year level. He's never had help before, nor a safe environment to learn in.

This leads to him finally getting to talk to mcgonagall (I love her so so much). She sits him down like, you're not in any trouble, have a cookie, I just want to talk about how you're doing. Harry has not a clue what to do. She talks to him about each class, asks if he made any friends, asks about slytherin.

Eventually it gets to the point that he kind of breaks down. Hes like, "I just dont understand. Everything's so amazing, I love being here, but some people are just so meanm"

She asks what he means and coaxs him to tell her all about snape and quirrel and the other students.

Mcgonagall takes a moment. And then she apologizes. Shes heen headmistress for just about a full year at this point and it seems she had some oversights.

She puts quirrel and snape on what is effectively probation. Quirrel is told that he will not be asked back the next year and any slip up will lead to immidient termination and being reported to the ministry.

Snape has been a teacher for ten years at this point and looking back mcgonagall knows that he has always shown signs of this problem. He is told to fix it or she'll let him go.

She also asks one hermione Granger if she'd be willing to tutor some peers. Harry begins to catch up on his classes.

The year comes to an end uneventfully. He has one more big spat with malfoy that leaves them having detention with mcgonagall. They clean and sort plaques in her office as she does some paperwork. She answers questions and gives anecdotes about what they find. She matches each of dracos snarky complaints.

Harry goes back to the Dursley's that summer. (One last oversight from mcgonagall.)

Year two: where the actual part that lives rent free in my head is.

Harry meets the one and only Luna Lovegood on the train. Luna is wierd and nothing she says makes sense, but harry is used to that by now so he thinks little of it. He rather likes her, shes fun to talk to. He hesitates to tell her he's a slytherin but she doesn't care at all about it.

[devondespresso]

1, 25, 81, 94 for the fanfic ask game! <3

KOKO HELLOOOOOOO ad thank you so much for the ask 💕💗💖💞💝 i went a little wild and had to reign it back in a bit and its still pretty long so apologies in advance

(ask game we're talking about is here but i also have questions next to the answers)

1. do you know how you want the story to end when you start, or are you just stumbling through the figurative wilderness hoping to find a road?

for the vast majorty of my fics i think i have a pretty good idea of where its going to go, i think because i get the ideas of these cool scenes usually set in act 2 or 3 or i at least the vibe i want from the start and The Point is usually clear the second i put thought into it. currently the only exceptions are 1) this super secret (woooo~~~) ficlet im working on that came from a prompt so i had to spend like 3 or 4 days writing it to properly understand the direction i wanted to take it, and 2) the steve henderson au, which is fucking massive already and it's even bigger in my head stnzgns. that one you obviously know how it ends y'know, it aint the steve henderson au if steve doesnt become a Henderson, but for all the arcs i have along the way it took a while to properly figure out what i doing and how to do that and im just now figuring out what that looks like for the first major arc.

so tldr: usually i know, sometimes i gotta figure it out, but i do need to have it figured out before it can really take shape

25. what’s your revision or rewriting process like?

oof ok so i tried writing this and good fucking god explaining everything i do in editing took up so much space. so this is the short answer for convenience but if anyone wants a long answer im foaming at the mouth to talk about writing stjsnystn (the rest under the cut)

the majority of my process is editing and sometimes first drafts are literally unrecognizable from the final. a lot of how i edit line by line is intuitive/vibes based, and whole scenes/arcs/pacing/flow/theme etc etc is based on a really deconstructed thought process for storytelling, to put it as briefly as i can (because this is one of the parts that got really long) its about The Why of everything going into the story. Picking details or making decisions not based rigidly on formula or trends but instead whats best for the kind of story you want to tell (and then making sure to implement it in a way that actually does that in the story).

for small works i prefer to just change shit as i see it and not worry about doing focused passes through the work, but in the steve Henderson au i literally cannot its too fucking big smhdmyxyn so in that case i do passes that span like whole writing sessions just hyperfocused on this one thing. one of my favorite passes is in-character passes where i pick one person (often dustin bc hes a main character), rewatch them a ton to get in their headspace, and go back and make sure everything they say or do fits them as if they were the sole focus if the story. I'll also do passes to focus just on medical accuracy, passes for a specific character duos to keep their story progressing and consistent, passes for ideas that stay between the lines making sure they stay consistent and understanding how much information im conveying, character's specific mindsets that their arc is about and making sure they dont have any unintentional exceptions, literally if its a thing in the text i probably need to do a pass for it so i know its consistent

also more lighthearted stuff tends to need wayyyy less editing time and its a more balanced half solo half beta process. the easiest was the claudia henderson drabble because it was really just a backstory with an active scene or two all rooted in her outside persective.

also sometimes i just start from scratch halfway through, like mr crayola henderson has one previous half-complete version in my doc fhdlas tho i guess thats how drafts are supposed to work

and this is the tldr im sorry i dont want to cut it down any more just read this one its my favourite fdhaskl

81. if you could go back in time and give your younger self a piece of writing advice specific to you, what would it be?

honestly i wouldn't have much to tell them. i didn't start writing fanfic until july of last year?? something like that and i started with the steve henderson au. maybe don't write that one about the triggering thing lol.

actually wait no. id tell them its okay to abandon projects (and maybe tell them not to make some purchases dgnxngsyn) but ye i spent a while mourning projects because they felt like they ceased to exist, but i had several screenplay outlines that probably helped me a ton. in my writing and those experiences never leave me so their existence still had a purpose and value

tldr: dont write your very recent triggers silly goose, dont cry over abandoned art

94. do you prefer dialogue or description?

i definitely prefer dialogue, and with it action descriptions because i still think in movie-medium (tho i am getting better at understanding how the FUCK prose works and especially prose pacing oh my god why can't i just hold on an actors face for several seconds of silence gAAH!!). i like saying things without saying them, i like subtly building towards something body language until a snap, i looooove making blocking relevant in a medium where you're not even seeing the movement with your eyes, and i love getting into a characters head so far that each person has a different way to word something or a different detail they focus on or a certain tick that tells the other character whats in their head.

but i struggle with internal monologue sooooooo hard, its a practiced skill im actively working on to write a characters internal logic about something but still keeping it from being too on the nose about whats really going on. like i can do it but i struggle to fill page time with it because exploring ideas at least for me usually leads to the source and thats decidedly not where the characters going! its a tuesday afternoon! they're not unpacking shit they're trying to have a third coffee!! i also struggle finding the best words for the reader to feel the text, like idk man maybe im using the onelook dictionary wrong but it just does not get me what im looking for in under three looks zgnshnsyn

tldr: dialogue and blocking, good description is witchcraft

_

but yee thank you again for the ask dude!! this was so much fucking fun i fucking love talking about writing and the logic process behind everything. thanks anyone seeing this for actually reading this far 💕

[tixuctoad]

Owl house ocs, headcannons, and lore; Of bilesacks and magic

Finally writing my own hcs and lore for my owl house ocs, since I've been busting out their designs and tired of pulling "*doesnt elaborate on their lore*" joke everytime I post them. So, now I'm swallowing my shame, and posting this! There's a lot... of stuff.. and I think one of the main reasons I was scared that some of them may not... fit as owl house ocs... idk yk? Like that's dumb because they're all witches and abide the owl house stuff

Also theres oc x canon stuff

Real nervous about sharing that

Wahoo

However before I get into the actual characters, I need to explain this little concept that I made a few months back! Its fairly self indulgent and self.. projected..? Basically the "authors health stuff meets their love of magic and shape shifters"

Anyways

Onto this post's topic, which is a bilesack condition? Disorder? Disease? Imma be real I'm *very* bad with remembering the differences and how to label so bare with me

The reason I'm talking about this before any characters is because well. Some of the ocs in question have this, and for some, it's a large part of their lore

Now I'm probably not the first person to come up with this tbh, but, at least I can have my own spin on it.

We all know that a witch's magic comes from their bilesack, a sack-like organ that's attatched to the heart. It makes fluids that, in some way, can be used to cast spells

But what if the bilesack cannot produce magic properly? What if the fluids were different? What if it produced too much? Too little? And what would be the effects of that?

Well, if you give that concept to someone like me; a little goober with issues with my own organs and a lover of magic, and having some stronk escapism stuff; this is my personal answer

And yes, I admit, for one of the types ot behaves similarly to Eda's curse. But that's gonna be elaborated on later.

There are three types of this bilesack condition, as references to the questions above; and there are various different tools and treatments for.. at least two of the three types. I'm still thinking of a name for all this so, yeah.

These conditions are typically life long, and can vary from witch to witch. It also effects demons, as we know that they also have bilesacks.

There are different symptoms, side effects, and warning signs each type uniquely have, and some each type shares. It is typically genetic, and can hide in families unnoticed for years before becoming active; it can show up at any time in the witch's life. Unfortunately this is a lesser known condition, and it's not uncommon for it to be mistaken for a curse, especially in the case of Type B

Type A

Type A refers to when the bilesack does not produce enough fluids. Of course, the magic a witch has relies on said fluids; and this is possibly the most tame and... mild... of the three types. This is because it impairs and limits the witch's ability to cast spells. Witches with Type A tend to have weaker or less potent magic, and in worse cases no magic. The main way to aid witches with Type A is through staffs; both real palismen and artificial staffs, as it acts as an outside source of power. Obviously, the witch can also use Glyphs, if they know of them and how they work.

Type B

Type B is the opposite of Type A, but can have more dire affects and really gives off the "this is vaguely based off edas curse" energy. Type B happens when the bilesack produces too much magic fluid. So their magic can sometimes be too much to control, depending on the severity. In worse cases one of two things happen;

Either the witch's body will be wrecked from the inside out if the bile gets out of control, the amount of raw power burning their bodies. Very nasty stuff.

Or, in an attempt to save their body and burn the magic, their body will shift and transform into a large beast. It's a horrible but swift transformation that buys the witch some time to stabilize themselves. If they cannot stabilize, then the above will happen. Similarly to Eda's curse, they lose themselves when they change. Unfortunately, due to the fact the witch transforms, it's comminly mistaken as a curse. As elixirs have magic inside them, and the witch already has too much magic, it'll be like throwing water on a grease fire; disastrous.

In worst cases where a witch has transformed but stabilized, the beast-like form can be permanent. In even rarer cases witches have gotten stuck as they changed between forms.

It should also be noted that the transformation is involuntary, and the witch cannot control it. It has also been noted that stress, anxiety, adrenaline, and other similar.. stimulants... can push the bilesack to produce fluid, raising the chance for a transformation to occur.

Common ways to keep control of Type B is to find ways to regulate magic, and eliminate potential triggers. Common ways of regulation include:

1; increasing spell casting, effectively expelling the extra fluid

2; using outside tools that suck and drain magic when it begins to rise in level. We know that draining magic is possible; through basilisks and the draining spell. So, I've combined this idea (albeit at a smaller scale) with the concealment stones. Usually these tools are hidden as jewelry; from rings to earrings to necklaces and bracelets. The actual thing that drains the magic are these removable stones that can be replaced and reused. When dry, or empty, they are dull and colorless. When they collected the magic and hit their max capacity, they gain color and can glow (usually in the color of the witch's magic).

A cool thing about a filled stone is that it can also be used as a small power source! ....surely this won't be used to weave in some extra messed up belos bits should I make an au where this stuff exists in TOH universe and I interweave it into the au..

Type C

Type C refers to when the fluids inside the bilesack have a different composition compared to other bilesack fluids. While this typically is paired with a Type A or B, it can exist in it's own. It needs to also be said that types A and B can also exist on their own with C. However A and B cannot be seen in the same witch at the same time; hoping that makes sense.

Back to Type C, because the fluids in the sack are different it can lead to magic mishaps where spells can be corrupted or mixed up. Similar to Type A, this one can be more tame and calm. But also, similarly to Type B, it can be just as disastrous based on severity. For some witches it can be harmless mixups, and for others it can be dire. Although, to be fair, even a small mistake can be dangerous depending on the situation.

It can approached like the other types; through staffs and draining stones. But it can also be worked through with the witch learning how their magic works and "correcting" their casting methods.

Basically: if the recipe for a smoothie makes a smushie, then you use the recipe when you want the slushie.

If the spell to make light makes ice, then you use that spell to make ice when you need it

Though it should be noted that this isn't a perfect solution for all spell castings or for all witch's

Characteristics of each type

A common trait each type has is that the witch who actively has the condition has delays in their magic development. They're late bloomers. However not all late bloomers have this condition; but all who have this condition are late bloomers. Usually their magic can be delayed until as old as 11, before coming in as normal. Depending on genetics and severity will dictate how their body will react when the condition becomes active. It should also be said that it's genetic, and can be "dormant" in a witch, sometimes never becoming active. That's another reason it's not too well known in canon or seen as common; while a witch may carry the genetics for it to occur, it doesn't always actually happen and show

Type A doesn't have many physical/visible bits, but those with it have chronic fatigue. This is due to, well, the fact they don't have much magic. I base this one on the conditions of those attacked by the basilisks in "The First Day". On top of that they tend to have hypersomnia, and moderate pain

Type C follows similar patterns to A, but generally does not have any unique characteristics outside of the magic mixups

Type B, however, is very different from the other two types, especially when the witch has experienced a beast transformation. Before we get to that; Type B is also commonly associated with sleep issues, arthritis, fatigue. Those who have transformed before tend to have these issues amplified, especially immediately following a transformation. They also show physical traits from their beast form in their normal form after they've shifted. Think of them as "scars". It can be anything from:

Horns and/or antlers

Tails

Claws

Fangs

Fins

In VERY rare cases, wings

Discolored patches of skin

Discolored hair (commonly white)

Patches of fur, scales, or feathers, depending on their beast form

Discolored eyes

Usually they start out with few and minor traits, but it can build up if they continue to transform and revert. Discolored patches of skin or eyes can be just about any color, but usually (not always) reflect the witch's magic color in varying levels of brightness and saturation

That's really about it, but this will probably be changed and edited as I develop this idea more, but! Yeah! I really want to talk about my owl house ocs, but I know none of it will make sense if I don't tackle this stuff first! So! When I do finally get to talking about the actual characters, you guys can refer back to this when it's relevant

[bts-bay-bee]

see you in class, professor kim.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x fem!reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 1743

Request: married professor!namjoon and single college student!reader, please. smutty as possible.

Warnings: infidelity, professor!namjoon, slight dom!namjoon, college student!reader, let’s pretend miss rona doesnt exist in this, unprotected sex, slight impregnantion kink, creampie, spanking, slight degradation, sex over a desk, finger sucking,

a/n: honestly, you guys always ruin me with these prompts :( enjoy kim namjoon being a distraction in class while I prepare for a new semester! also, please, please, PLEASE do NOT sleep with your professor!!! this is just smut, and it should never be compared to irl. also, this is very random but let me know if youd be interested in a jungkook sm au :)

 “Professor Kim? Y/N from Calc101 is here to see you.” You hear the department secretary say clearly into the telephone, promptly nodding at you, allowing you to walk through the glass doors.

 Nervousness blossomed in the pit of your stomach, each step through the tiled corridor only amplifying it. You could not explain it; you knew that you were about to be severely admonished, yet you could not help but feel giddy; finally, Professor Kim saw you in the way you wanted to be noticed.

 Maybe it was the fact that he had finally noticed how you lingered after class, just to ask questions that he knew you knew the answer to. Maybe it was the fact that you had made the conscious decision to stop wearing panties during your Friday morning class, instead opting to go commando with your too-short skirts.

 “Come in and close the door.” He snapped as soon as he saw you in the doorway of his office. The irritation, and ill-disguised anger laced in his tone made you gulp. Maybe it was the fact that he had enough of your stupid antics… He was a married man, after all.

 Closing the door behind you, you quickly took the seat on the opposite side of the desk, eyes downcast. You dropped your backpack to your feet, belly consumed by nervousness. Bravely, in your opinion, glancing up at him for a brief second, you immediately looked down at the floor again, his gaze much too intense to meet.

 “Did I say you could sit down, Y/N?”

 “N-No, sir.” You mumbled, moving to stand up. He tutted, jerking his head to the side to indicate he wanted you next to his seat. As you were passing the door, he tilted his head, almost pondering something.

 “Lock the door.”

 A smirk threatened to claim your lips; he might be pissed off to no end right now, but he was still about to give you everything you had wanted. Walking over to his side of the desk, your eyes trailed over the pile of test papers he had placed on the mahogany tabletop, seeing your mark sheet on the top.

 “Do you know how I hand back test sheets, Y/N?” He asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he placed his glasses on the table.

 “Highest grades first.” You mumbled; your confidence shrunk significantly now that he regarded you with bare eyes.

 “And whose paper is on top?” He asked whilst standing up and moving behind you to grab something from the shelf.

 “Mine.”

 “Hmm,” He hummed, pressing his body against your own, drawing a gasp out of you. “You’ve gotten the highest mark, little one. We both know you’re smart, yeah?”

 Nodding desperately, you started grinding your ass against his clothed cock, breathing harshly. His hands latched onto your waist, halting your movement. You could feel his wedding band pressing into you, but right now, you could not care less.

 “If we both know you’re smart,” He began, breathing out gently, hands pressing into your skin almost too harshly. “Why do you stay back to ask questions that even a seventh grader would know? Do you want my attention that badly?”

 “Yes, sir!” You desperately whined, feeling his head dip to your pulse point. Despite being in such close proximity, he did not place his lips on you, instead he just continued teasing you.

 “But you know I’m not single, right?” He asked, trailing his wedding ring over the exposed skin on your leg, the metal bringing a welcome coolness to your over sensitized skin. “You kept trying to seduce a married man?”

 “I knew.” You mumbled, trying to press your ass into his crotch now that his left hand roamed amongst the expanse of your bare thigh.

 “And you still kept flashing your dripping cunt during 8am classes?” He wondered out aloud, right hand travelling further up your body to palm your chest. “You still kept coming up to me with your perky tits? Nipples begging to be sucked?”

 Whining in response, you felt him press your upper body to his desk, immediately flipping over your skirt to reveal your ass and drooling pussy lips. His hand barely ghosted over your skin, skimming over the globes of you ass, fingertip ever so slightly collecting your arousal.

 “You want me that badly, Y/N?” he asked, his voice barely above a murmur, yet still strong, holding a domineering stance. Without waiting for a response, his hand slapped against your sensitive skin, his large palm leaving reddened skin in its wake. He continued bringing down his palm against you, his wedding band leaving darker patches, the metal biting into your skin in the most sinful way.

 Tiny groans left your drying lips, tongue darting out to wet them every minute or so. You could feel his other hand dig into your side, ensuring you did not move from where he wanted you, while he shifted his target to your slightly swollen pussy lips.

 “You hear how wet you are for me?” He asked, voice gruff and low. Dipping two fingers into your core, you knew that if you had a shred of dignity left, you should have been ashamed by the wet sound that rang in your ears. However, Professor Kim seemed to be getting off on this, adding another finger to amplify the squelching sound.

 “S-Sir, please!” You begged, feeling your core pulse at not being filled enough. “Please fuck me. I need your cock!”

 Ripping his fingers out of your cunt, he shoved them into your mouth, making you gag slightly.

 “Shut the fuck up before someone hears you!” He hissed; his mouth right next to your ear. Sucking on his fingers to desperately shut yourself up, you began grinding against him again, basically fucking yourself against his clothed crotch.

 You whined against his fingers, trying not to gag as he pressed his fingers deeper into your mouth.

 “God damn it, I want to fill your mouth so badly,” He murmured, slipping his fingers out from between your lips, your spit gleaming on his skin. You ignored his words, choosing to rub your naked core against his slacks. “Guess that’s going to have to wait, huh? My little slut wants her little cunt to be stuffed, hmm?”

 Nodding silently, body trembling in anticipation, you felt him moving away from your arched body. His free hand moved to his crotch, unbuttoning and unzipping his slacks just enough to let his angry red cock spring out, the tip dribbling the smallest bit of precum on your skin. He aligned himself at your entrance, groaning into your ear as your core squeezed his length. You bit your lip hard to prevent yourself from moaning and whining out in pleasure; the fluttering stretch of your core sending euphoric shockwaves throughout your entire being.

 After giving you the briefest moment to adjust, he began ploughing into you, his skin slapping against your own. His length rubbed against, what seemed like, every nerve ending in your cunt, your wetness only aiding in both of your pleasures.

 Realising that with the harshness of his thrusts, he was making it harder for you to keep quiet, and by extension not alerting anyone in the department offices, you reached behind you and grabbed his hand, plastering it over your mouth to keep your moans contained.

 “Fuck, what a good girl,” He moaned softly, speeding up his thrusts as he used his hand to pull you up, his ring biting into your skin. Professor Kim brought his right hand down to your clit, the rough pads of his fingers pressing down onto the delicate skin, making your knees weak with pleasure. You used your hands to support yourself on the desk, not trusting your legs to work properly whilst he continued to assault the bundle of nerves with unwavering pleasure.

 Tiny moans and sounds escaped your mouth, forced Professor Kim to shove his fingers into your mouth, making you suck on them to shut you up. Unknowingly, your tongue darted out to lick every inch of his skin but settled on the metal band that covered his skin.

 The knowledge of knowing he made the conscious decision to be intimate with you, whilst being someone else’s, made the pleasure multiply tenfold, taking you right on the brink of your high. He seemed to be on the same wavelength, your core fluttering around his cock enough to make his thighs tremble.

 “Are you close, Y/N?” He panted, thrusting into you harder as your cunt became even more difficult to leave. “Pretty, little whore ready to cum over my cock?”

 Nodding uselessly tears gathering in your eyes, your body convulsed around his cock, your entire form being taken over by your climax. Vaguely, you could hear him swearing, profanities still somehow sounding sexy coming from his lips.

 “Fuck, fuck, Y/N,” He groaned, “Going to cum in you, angel. My good girl takes my cum, right? Going to fill you up, Y/N!”

 “Please,” You whispered, feeling his cock throb as you fucked yourself on him. “Fill me up, sir, please.”

 Groaning, he released his hot, sticky seed into your pussy, filling you up. Thrusting into you gently, he squeezed every last drop of his cum into you. Slowly taking his cock out of you, he felt blood rush back to his length when his cum slowly dribbled out of your core; the white seed a stark contrast to your reddened skin.

 Smirking at his handy work, he flipped your skirt back down, scribbling his number onto your hand.

 “Go back home and send me a picture of your pussy stuffed with my cum, okay?” He instructed, almost playfully squeezing your neck. You tried to not let the smirk show on your face, your core clenched, trying to not let his cum spill out of you and onto your thighs.

 “Yes, sir.” You murmured, reaching down to grab your bag, making him groaned at your exposed, and now puffy, pussy lips. “See you in class, Professor Kim.”

[kaijurakunsobs]

If requests are open could you do a Heisenberg fic with a teen or young adult reader(no older than 20 please) who stumbles into the village trying to get away from their parents and after they get attacked by Lycans Heisenberg patches them up and takes them in trying to hide them from his sister and mother miranda. Could you please do it with an AFAB reader who doesn’t identify as female? I am currently dealing with borderline verbal abuse from my conservative father who doesnt like that though I am AFAB I don’t identify as female.

first, baby, I'm so sorry that this is happening to you. I know how bad and mentally taxing that kind of living situation can get, I was in a similar situation and somehow managed to pull through.

you are not alone, you are loved and I hope everything gets better, never forget that it's you who defines yourself, your self worth should NEVER be defined by others

All you can think is...how cold everything is around you, how the freezing air burns your skin and lungs, but, you have endured something worst, physical pain can be healed with time, emotional and psychological pain is what hurts the most, what feels eternal and haunting, it coils around you, it grows and never let's go, like being branded, it leaves marks that never go away.

Running aimlessly through the snow feels like nothing.

What made you get out of the car?

Was it anger?

Desperation?

Does that even matter anymore?

You can't hear their voices anymore, so that's a win.

Farther away you see smoke and fain lights, distant sounds beckoning you closer to that place, and you let yourself smile widely when the silhouette of someone standing so close to you, you could get help, start somewhere new, be happy!

But it's so short-lived, that you question if there's divine retribution, karma, or just the universe laughing in your face.

Your "savior" is covered in blood, a man with a perpetual expression of agony lays in the snow, dead. The monster turns to you and finally the cold freezes you where you stand, it's not alone, and all the other creatures are looking at you, dark soulless eyes fixated on their new prey.

You have felt like that before under his gaze like if you were vermin, it made you furious how you were treated and consider as something lesser than a person. These things look at you the same like you are just a speck of dust in their path, and maybe you are, if the mangled body is any indication that taking a life will be nothing for them.

You see it from the corner of your eye, one of them lunges for you, and then? everything is a blur.

You remember kicking and punching wildly, adrenaline making you forget about the pain of the bites and scratches, there are memories of you running and using something to smash the head of one of the monsters, a rock, perhaps? But in the end, cold, blood loss, and exhaustion are enough to bring you to your knees. One of them grabs a fistful of hair and roars in your face and you know, that, this is it, you fought and did your best, but this is the end of your travesty...so much for your new life of freedom.

"Get the fuck away...I SAID FUCK OFF!" his voice is so loud that it makes you whimper and recoil "LET GO, CAN'T YOU HEAR ME? LET GO, DAMN IT!" the smell of blood and a warm liquid hits you hard, but at least you are free, letting your body hit the snow

"What do we have here?...this one is alive, but ya ain't from around here, do you?" he's smoking and something small and silly wants you to tell him that smoking is bad, which makes you smile so softly "...Interesting"

Heisenberg rarely gets intrigued by anything, he hasn't found anything to spark his curiosity in so long, so of course, he had to come and see what was causing such a commotion. What he thought to be a villager, fist fighting the lycans so valiantly, turned out to be a teenager, he saw you from afar,  furiously kicking lycan after lycan, you didn't even notice the growing red spots in your clothes and the black eye, it was survival and feral like behavior. Truly interesting.

Now, what made him pick you up with care? years from today he will say it was just "Scientific interest kiddo! nothing more", but, it's the pain in your face that makes him act so soft, it's not the agony brought by your wounds, this goes deeper, it's different and he knows it very well.

Under normal circumstances, he would have taken you to Moreau, but he knows the loud mouth will give you to that bitch Miranda and that will be it for you. Dimitrescu is OUT of the equation, so does Beneviento, hell knows what her psychotic ass would do to you. So he brings you back to his home and takes time to clean your wounds, true, his stitching abilities are amazing...on corpses, and a lack of anesthesia and your occasional movements makes it hard for him to stitch you properly, but by the end of everything, you are bandaged and clean, isn't that the important part?

He’s done his part, the rest is on you. If you had the strength to fight and even kill a lycan, you might live to see another day

How long were you out?

You are warm and so fucking sore, cracking your eyes open is a big task and even harder to sit up in the bed you are laying on. The room is black and smells like tobacco, oil, and something you can’t place but it’s nice.

Barefoot and curious you start to get up, wincing deep and loud when pain floods your body, but you get up non-less, you feel the cold air hit your legs, and immediately pull down the shirt to cover yourself. Then it fully clicks, the jagged memories of what happened slaps you in the face and make you lose your footing, falling back on the bed you pry the shirt off from your body, you see bandages and patches placed on smaller wounds, your head is killing you and your right eye hurts like crazy.

With small breathes you pull the shirt back on and force your body to get up and investigate the room. There are piles of clothes and pieces of paper everywhere, picking one of the pants you sigh, these are yours, but they have been destroyed either by the beasts or by however brought you here. Looking around there’s nothing more, time to go out.

The only door leads you to an open room, the kitchen and living room placed together, in one of the sofas you can see someone laying down, their chest rising and falling softly, their face obscured by an old hat.

You try to be as quiet and sneaky as possible when getting back into the room “Where do you think you are going, kid?” his voice is thick with sleep but the sound is enough to make you yelp, slamming your shoulder against the door frame, the man jumps up and in a couple of strides he’s beside you “Can you more fucking careful? the stitches gonna get open and if you get an infection I ain’t risking my neck to get you meds”

He’s a bit taller than you with squared and wide shoulders, his face is stern and it seems like he’s annoyed about something, is it you? Did you anger him? You try to remember what could you have done to make him so mad but nothing comes to you, is not like you remember much, and what you do, is better to be left forgotten.

Heisenberg has seen many people look at him with fear, reverence even, but he has never been in the receiving end of a look like yours, he has to close his eyes for a second, carefully grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the kitchen, almost forcing you to take a seat in on of the wobbly chairs he owns.

“Well now that you are back with us, I can finally cook something to eat. You must be starving! I would too after the way you fought back there” he lets out a howl while he busies himself with pulling ingredients for whatever he’s cooking “I saw ya, you know? That was one hell of a show and I know about putting up good entertainment, you gave those lycans a good beating”

Lycans? So those things have names...uuuh, who would have thought.

"What's your name kid?" you get pulled out of your mind by his voice and the smell of cooking eggs, for a moment you wonder and think, that this is the time to be addressed by YOUR name "...I'm Y/N, sir"

"Cut the sir bullshit, you ain't trying to impress nobody here, you can call me Heisenberg, Karl if you wanna get my attention quickly, got it?"

"Yes...Heisenberg?"

He's rather harsh from what little you have seen of him, but he's careful when serving you breakfast, a steady hand serves you tea and makes quick work of a loaf of bread, whit that you two eat in relative silence, he eats like a wolf and that's enough to make you hide a smile.

"Once you are...better..." he's speaking between bites, eew "I'm taking you to get some new clothes, staying here ain't gonna be free, ok?" with his fork pointing at you he waits and continues without you answering "I'll have to teach you...that's gonna take time..."

"I'm a faster learner!"

Heisenberg laughs at the offended tone in your voice, taking a big gulp from his mug once he stops "I like ya kid, there's a fire in you and I respect that, we gonna get along"

It takes you almost 2 weeks to fully recover and be able to move without crying out in pain. On the day he announces that he must take off your stitches, he's kind when pulling on the thread, talking about how that same day he's taking you to the seamstress cuz he's "done" having you wear his stuff.

The seamstress in the Village seems flabbergasted when "Lord Heisenberg" comes into her house, demanding she makes you good sturdy pants and easy to move in shirts. From that sole visit is enough for people to call you "Heisenberg's assistant" whenever you are sent to the village or just went spotted by anyone. The Duke, the merchant that sometimes you have found yourself talking to, does nothing but fuel the rumor, people already fear Heisenberg on a god day, now they fear you might be spying for him.

You would be lying by saying that, Heisenberg is a normal man, he's flamboyant and loud, filled with pride, and what you can describe as...showmanship, he speaks with passion when explaining to you the ins and outs of the factory. He's always close, never breathing down your neck, just close enough to hear if you need help.

The first time you see him use his gift is the most embarrassing and awkward moment of your life.

You are working on some molds for pieces he needs to make from scratch, he taught you where you should work on that, away from whatever lurks in the lower areas of the factory. You were so engrossed in getting the mold out perfectly, tongue sticking out and heavy gloves helping you to pry open the damn thing open, you don't even jump when a hand lands on your shoulder, but you do when the ghoulish face of a corpse appears beside you.

He's running the second he hears you, a high pitched sound tearing through the noise of the machinery, he sees you bolting it towards him and a Zwei Soldat quickly catching up with you, the drill in its arm too close to your back, the moment you are close enough he pulls you towards and behind him, a metal sheet flying to the thing and beheading it in an instant.

"Kid...Kid, look at me, hey, eyes on me" you are not crying, there's no blood anywhere and nothing seems to be missing, you seem more startled than anything else, but you listen to him, concentrated on him and his voice "Y/N, it's ok kid, I'm here"

Then it happens, you let it slip. "Thanks...thanks dad"

You feel him go tense, the hands-on your shoulders shake for a second and embarrassment comes crashing down on you, you are ready for him to yell or push you away and order you to see if the mold is still useful, but he pulls you close, patting your back like you never said anything.

There are days when you can hear him talking on the phone, his voice growing irritated, and his explosive temper getting worst.

You are curled up in the crawlspace that he turned into your room, listening to him talking with someone, he sounds exasperated and nervous. This time he takes longer to come out from his room, a new cigar in his mouth and hammer over his shoulder, usually, he would tell you that he's leaving for a couple of hours, this time he's just there, tapping his foot and sparing quick glances at you.

"Get your coat, we need to leave"

That's new...he never takes you with him to wherever he goes, but you don't feel like arguing and do as he says, slipping your boots on and grabbing your coat.

Heisenberg is unusually quiet this time, only the snow crunching under your feet make enough sound to fill in the void, he takes you farther from the village and into a rundown church, you can hear new voices and the unforgettable sounds of the lycans snarling.

Inside the candlelight is soft and cast strange shadows of the people already waiting inside. There's a woman in a white dress that probably towers over you, another lady dressed in black and her covered, she sits in a corner with a creepy doll on her lap, and finally, a shy man who battles to cover himself with the torn cloth of his jacket.

"Is this why mother Miranda called us? Did you brought a new toy and never informed her? what a bad dog you are Heisenberg"

"Non of your business, Dimitrescu" Karl does everything to keep you behind him, away from the doll or the twisted man, but especially from the woman, Dimitrescu as he called her.

From where you stood, you could see how beautiful and regal she is, sitting with grace and a sarcastic smile plastered on her face. Noticing you, she moved slightly to get a better look, narrowing her eyes, making you feel small and like food. Before she can't even speak the sound of feathers caught your attention, giving Karl enough time to guide you to one of the pews, making you take a seat beside him.

The four adults greeted the new woman, the infamous mother Miranda, you have heard about her in the village and through small stories shared by the Duke, but mostly, you have heard Heisenberg curse the woman and call her every single name under the sun.

"Usually I wouldn't care for what my children do in their dominions, but, Karl, I must say I'm disappointed in you...to hide this child and avoid telling us?"

"I apologize, Miranda, the right opportunity never came" ooooh he's pissed

"I say you take his toy, Mother Miranda, and if possible, give me that lovely lady to me?" at that your gut twist uncomfortably, it's been some time since you were...addressed like that

"Excuse me?" Heisenberg cocks his head to the side, looking at Dimitrescu over his shades "Are you talking about my SON?"

"YOUR SON?! Don't make laugh, child, I can smell the sweet maiden blood running through her veins, that's a lady not one of your dirty lycans"

"And you are bitch no matter how well you dress!"

"ENOUGH!" Miranda's voice breaks them apart, everyone looking at her "Care to elaborate, Heisenberg?"

Karl takes a second to take a drag from his cigar and blow a cloud of some into the air "I found Y/N here, they fought hard to survive and I took them in, just like Alcina, and her lovely daughters...I decided it was my time to have a child of my own"

"That doesn't change the fact that you brought an outsider and didn't inform mother, and now you are trying to do what exactly? have...them...play house with you?"

"Lady Dimitrescu, that's enough" she's looking at you, mother Miranda in staring, and Heisenberg as a hand on your back, suddenly you are hyper-aware of everything, the sounds and smells, the movements each person in the room does, the way the candles flicker "I allow it, may this never happen again, Heisenberg. Next time there will be consequences"

You feel like passing out after that, the screams of Dimitrescu and the doll get drown by the ringing in your ears, everything keeping you together is Heisenberg's hand on yours cursing up a storm as he pulls you along with him.

The cold air feeling nice against your burning skin.

"Kid? I think you are ready" you are halfway through the trek back to the factory when he speaks again

"Ready for what?"

"To be introduced to the Heisenberg family true work, of course! What kind of father I would be if I don't involve you in our family's business"

You trip with your feet hearing him say that, so...he meant it? what he said in the church...that you are his son?

"Come on Y/N, I won't go easy on you because you are my kid now, quick quick"

Catching up to him is easy and you feel at peace when one of his arms wraps around you, he begins to talk about how many things he's gonna teach you and how exciting is to have a young mind to shape.

For the first time, you are eager to get back home.

[morelike-bi-light]

unplanned unexpected unwarranted vampire charlie au

au where bella decides she cant leave her dad behind like her mom did and convinces edward and carlisle to protect him too. carlisle ushers him out of the house and explains things to him, providing proof as needed - as much as he can. they go to arizona to hide out, charlie stumbling over his words to convince renee that he and bella were threatened and are in enough danger to need to hide out in a different state.

bella still gets the phone call, and renee doesn't answer when either of them call. when the others are distracted, she still gets away to meet james, but when the cullens go to save her, charlie's waiting outside with esme and rosalie (who are guarding him on the road instead). victoria is there too - and she gives them more trouble than they anticipated. emmett and jasper are distracted by the redhead and the noises from inside the studio getting louder and more concerning by the second.

when a scream rings out — he's never heard bella sound like this, not even when she was a mousy little girl buried under his seahawks baseball cap far too big for her head — charlie can't help but wrench open the door and run inside. his baby is cowering away from a bloodthirsty monster and there's not even a pause in his step as he sprints over to shield her form with his own, squeezing her against his chest and praying for the first time since he heard she wanted to come up to forks for the rest of school

his prayer's interrupted by a loud shattering sound and a malicious laugh. "aw, look at that! daddy's trying to save you. what a noble, pointless sacrifice!" a smack like stone hitting stone. "well far be it from me to deny a man his dying wish."

he doesn't hear what he says next - he doesn't hear anything, or see anything, because everything is white and sharp and pain, burning like a star, blooming in the crevice where his shoulder meets his collarbone. nothing exists right then but the cold fire in his skin, burrowing in his bone. it feels like hours before anything changes. the first thing to slip through is wet on his cheek and cool hands scrabbling to clutch at his.

"dad! dad!" bella? "edward! carlisle! anybody, any of you, please, I need help! my dad — needs help!" a hand on his cheek, trembling and frantic. "dad just hang in there! somebody help us!"

his fingers twitch, stretching towards her. "bella —you okay — bells — "

"im okay! im okay, im so sorry, dad, im so sorry! im sorry, it shouldnt have been you — this is all my fault — edward! edward please, you have to help him!"

hers is still the only voice he can discern but there are more emerging, blending together but getting closer. he catches snatches of words like 'bit', and 'spread', and 'minutes', and 'sorry', and 'safety'. a pale shape stands at the edge of his vision, and at once he's lifted from the floor. he convulses, eliciting another audible choke from his sweet daughter, and he recognizes a familiar, soothing voice from above.

"we can't stay here..."

"what? what do you mean?"

"we'll bring him back with us..."

"what are you going to do?"

"let him take him, bella, please"

"we'll watch over him, i promise."

"Im not leaving him, i can't just let him go!"

"i promise," softer. "jasper — will he sleep?"

the world softens and fully crumbles away. there's nothing left. nothing but fire.

time doesn't exist here, but then the fire, it doesn't go out. yet it stops hurting. it stops eating. it starts feeding. a single thought pops into his head that will make no sense to him when he recalls it later — a weary 'oh. i see.'

three days after the ballet studio, he wakes up to a brown popcorn ceiling. he blinks. he can see every crack and cranny in the plaster.

"mr. swan?" a tinkling voice says, and he sits up. "good, I thought you'd be up." the little black haired cullen girl beams up at him, chipper but sorry. her hand is curled around his wrist. "bella will be back any moment, and carlisle soon after. they're just across the hall, actually. he says we'll need to look after you for a while, just in case, —"

she pauses, just soon enough to avoid being interrupted by the sound of beeping and pressing keys and the door swinging open. bella is whole and wonderful — he can see every inch of her and she's really actually fine, not even a scratch — and she freezes seeing him but then she's flinging herself forward, pale face contorting

"dad—!"

"b-bells," he stands up, quickly, too quickly, to meet her, tugging alice along with him, but edward catches his girlfriend's hand and holds her back as he voices her objections to her entering at all. charlie scowls at first, when a scent reaches his nose — a smell that might've made his stomach growl if it could. his eyes cast up in open question.

edward is stiff, eyes looking conflicted but legs poised to pounce. "it's her."

"oh." charlie shifts uncomfortably on his feet, properly spooked, willing the despairing thirst away. as moments pass since making the connection, the scent of blood — of food — fades, to the point he can hardly detect it at all. it's a sharp relief.

"you — how do you feel," bella forces out, eyes locked with his with an uncomfortable intensity that makes him squirm and anxiously rake a hand through his hair. carlisle and the others filter in behind her and he's grateful for something else to look at, now he knows she's safe.

"better," he settles on. "than before, I mean. was that — did —" he waits for someone to interrupt him and fill him in, but it's quiet. "are you okay?"

a bark of laughter bursts from her chest and she assures him she's fine, eyes wide and brows furrowed like she can't believe he's a real person, the way she gets sometimes when he says something so awkward and sincere it makes her want to groan. but she doesn't want to groan anymore. instead she's torn between crying and singing.

"what do you remember?" carlisle asks, gently stepping forward, his gaze a mix of clinical fascination, wary confusion, and personal concern. charlie would flush beneath it... but the heat never comes to his cheeks.

"exactly how much are you looking for," he grumbles. "last thing i recall..." no need to go into the pain. "finding bella with that... guy at the studio."

"just finding her?"

"trying to protect her," he amends, focused on avoiding everyone's gaze. "and... it was..." then he notices how much there is to see, even when hes trying not to look at anything. he frowns. absorbing this much — it feels like a headache, minus the pain itself. overload. "it was him wasnt it. he bit me"

esme and jasper nod, but carlisle and bella just look away, the brunette visibly cringing. edward's jaw tightens, and for some inexplicable reason, the sight of that is what makes it all click for him.

"so," he fumbles for a second, but the word comes out so clean and sure when he says it, not at all like he feels. his mouth is physically incapable of tripping over itself like hes used to, no stammer, no stumbling. he grimaces and all the muscles pull exactly like he intends them too. he shakes his head. "he bit me. and? can i assume that's what's got me feeling so weird? the... some sort of effect of the bite?"

bella doesnt answer. neither does carlisle. surprisingly, it's that blonde girl that replies, though not to him.

"show him," she says, and after a moment, esme creeps forward, gesturing for his hand. he hesitates, but takes it. edward shifts to place bella behind him, as if she needs to be protected from him the way charlie protected her from james, a move that breaks his heart. gently, esme maneuvers him over to the bathroom. she turns on the lights, though she didn't really need to. he blinks. red. in the middle of a face with skin more suited to a shelf at a morgue than the tasteful backsplash of the bathroom, framed with dark, curling, concerningly long lashes, his irises were red. that wasn't it, either.

"am i..." he huffed. "am i seeing things, or am i way better looking than usual?"

a ripple of good humor disturbs the room, from esme's warm giggle, to a watery chuckle from bella, to a great, booming crow from emmett.

"way to focus on what's important, chief," alice nods, at the man's back in an instant. she doesn't sound nearly as sarcastic as those words should warrant. "finally, a man after my own heart."

"wait till you try running for the first time," emmett interjects, joining her behind him. "mind, blown."

some of the other family members sigh and shake their heads. charlie runs his eyes along his sharper jaw, still sprinkled with the stubble he'd acquired in the preceding chaos, now even and almost roguish where before hes pretty sure it made him look old and unkempt. he looks younger, he thinks, not young exactly, but good. better than his age.

he pulls away from his reflection, eyes flickering from face to face around him. he might even have said that he fit in with the mythically beautiful family. hes struck by how silly he was to dismiss the strangeness of the gorgeous, antisocial group out of hand, now that he sees how strange he's become himself, before his eyes fall to his daughter.

"im sorry dad" she mumbles, humor evaporating, and a pain resounds like a crack in his chest.

slowly, carefully, he moves forward, and the rest of the vampires stand on high alert as they realize what he's about to do. bella's eyes are bloodshot and he presses his lips together in a bittersweet line as he wraps her in his arms and tucks her close, just under his chin. a shudder runs down his spine as a phantom pain ghosts over his shoulder, but he brushes it aside and it evaporates like water. when he breathes in, she smells the way she always has, and he is not hungry.

"it's okay, kiddo. we'll get through this. im just glad you're okay."

and they do. charlie's vampiric powers are related to shielding, like his daughter, but his are more like putting things on mute, if that makes sense. small things, obviously, and usually physical. he's got a great deal more resistance to thirst than most newborns, for example, because it's muted by his powers, particularly for those he cares about. unfortunately this makes it likelier for him to, uh, die of thirst, as it's possible for him to forget to feed. and he can't block edward from hearing his thoughts completely, but they're muffled naturally by his powers (and always will be. hes not helping anyone into his head any time soon, especially not his daughter's boyfriend). he can also mute his own scent to the shapeshifters — which means he and billy, after things are all sorted, will still be able to hang out and be best friends!! he can also mute his own footsteps,

anyways this started as a meme post intending to go into how comedic it would be if charlie got changed and bella spent the rest of the series complaining that edward wanted to spend the rest of eternity with her father but not with her but then i got struck with some mad charlie feels and this happened so anyways vampire!charlie everyone @charlieswanismyrealdad @effervescent-emmett @cullen-trash @emmettmccartycullen @jaspell @leahclearwaterdefensesquad is this anything

[nancylou444]

I tried to be nice

Replies to this post:

------------------------

------------------------

------------------------

------------------------

------------------------

------------------------

------------------------

Became this:

THEM:  hi! thanks for the answers I really appreciate the discussion. normally if someone ships something I don’t like or something like that, I’ll just leave them alone but.. just to be clear I completely respect all of your opinions, even agree with some of them, even if we might disagree on the incest and Castiel haha. So I don’t mean any disrespect with this at all, please let me know if I’m out of line though!  

 But... I saw some things you said, and they come across to me in a way that I don’t think you intended? I feel really awkward sending this haha, you’re very nice and I don’t think you said anything on purpose, but I just.. wanted to let you know that some of the things regarding your opinion on certain characters come across not very well? I don’t think it’s intentional or anything, and I don’t mean to call you out at all which is why I didn’t want to point it out in the replies y’know?  

 Don’t get me wrong though, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with not liking castiel or destiel. I’ve been watching the show for a while with my dad, and he isn’t a huge fan either, I don’t think that’s a problem :) 

I’d continue without waiting for a response but I don’t want to say something you’ve already been told, or continue without knowing if I’ve said something out of line already 😅

ME:  I'm kind of distracted dealing with my Mom's rehab center. But you can keep going.

THEM: Alright! I’ve tried rephrasing this a million times but I don’t know how to make it seem not antagonistic. I promise I don’t mean that you’re doing it intentionally, it’s just, uh a lot of your criticism of spn feels like it could be read as homophobic? Again I don’t think YOU are I just wanted you to know it kind of reads that way!

That sounded so confrontational. I really don’t mean it that way 😭

ME: HOMOPHOBIC? Really? A lot of the 'proof' your fellow shippers use border on stereotypes but you think I'M homophobic? Considering my top two ships are Wincest and Malec. Yeah, sounds confrontational.

THEM:  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I guess there’s no other way to say it, but I understand why you feel accused. What do you mean by proof..?

Also I don’t really think having gay ships means you can’t be homophobic. *I* used to be homophobic years ago, and I’m a gay person!

ME:  How old are you? https://nancylou444.tumblr.com/post/154098904136/a-guide-to-dean-winchesters-imaginary-bisexuality

THEM:  yeah this is starting to get frustrating. I’m gonna be real with you, why does it matter if people think dean is bisexual? like, bottom line, that is my question for you

and your answer will determine if your veracity is homophobic. why does it matter that some people think dean is bisexual. not the fans or actors or writers or anything. why does it matter that some viewers will watch, and they will think dean is bisexual?

ME:  My problem isn't that some people think he is bi IN FANON, my problem is that they want CONFIRMATION OF A FANON SHIP. And that some people DENY how the show ended. These same people think that fake weddings are more canon than the FINAL EPISODE.

THEM:  I get what you mean, but how is it a fanon ship when it’s confirmed romantic from one side, and interpretable as mutually reciprocated in Latin America? (I’m going to disregard the bit about the wedding, because I’m a firm believer in Neil Gaiman variety death of the author. Also that’s just people having fun with fanon, who cares?)

ME:  Confirmed romantic?By whom MISHA, who wanted to sell necklaces? Have you never said 'i love you' to a FRIEND or FAMILY member? The dub is not canon, so don't even try using that as proof. Death of the author is just another way of saying MY VIEW OF THE SHOW IS SUPERIOR TO HOW THE CREATOR WANTS TO SEE IT. Jensen has said many times that the ship isn't canon and that Dean is straight. But it's better to believe what Misha says because he agrees with you. You think somebody is bi because of how they sit or the color clothes they wear? That would make YOU homophobe.

THEM:  LOL You know what? I change my answer. I looked through your blog and you ACTIVELY and viscously hate Cas, Charlie, Claire, Kaia and the implication that Jack may not be straight. You’ve said Cas coming out as gay and in love with dean makes the rest of his actions predatory, compared him to a teenage girl, called him creepy, and openly rejoiced in your idea that dean looked ‘disgusted with him’. You said that Claire is awful, that Kaia is a wooden plank, that they ‘shoved them together’ for ‘woke points’ and said that Jody saying Claire was IN LOVE WITH Kaia ‘doesnt count’ and called it ‘lip service’. And it doesn’t end there! After all this, you said that you preferred the old better s4 Claire. Is it because she was ostensibly straight? Are you uncomfortable with queer women? And then you have the audacity to use these characters (Claire and Kaia and Charlie) as reasons to epicly own the Hellers and claim they already have represention. You are a completely disingenuous bitch and I don’t care to be nice to you anymore! I don’t feel AT ALL charitable toward you anymore, and I don’t care if you have gay ships. Gay people aren’t here for you to fetishize! You CONSTANTLY mock and ridicule jokes made by queer people regarding deans bisexuality or Cas being gay or any number of things. You constantly reaffirm that Dean is straight and call people who think otherwise delusional and disgusting, while you think dean is in romantic sexual love with his male sibling. You are openly hostile to the idea of non-binary jack and were pissed that Alcal endorsed that. You devalue Jack’s value and relationship to Cas who is, textually, his father figure. I have NO reason not to think that you are homophobic. I don’t care anymore! You’re a huge bitch and, judging by your prior responses and posts, a genuine dialogue regarding queerness in spn is impossible. You regard any instance of canonically queer moments ‘lip service’ and so regard it. You actively hate every canonically gay character and degrade them using traditionally homophobic tropes and stereotypes.

Feel free to explain how you aren’t homophobic. I’m so sorry if I got the wrong impression.

ME: Wow I see your true colors have come out HELLER.

THEM:  Idc if you think I’m mean. Go ahead and make a post about me lol, have fun with it. Give me a moment to respond to your paragraph it’s... a lot to dissect.

I’ll touch on your comments about the dub and the Spanish language in a moment. First though

I ’m gonna be real with you, I don’t think you know what death of the author is. Neil Gaiman’s variety of the dead author principal is that once canon ends, the story belongs to those that consume and engage with it. That’s... also literally the theme of supernaturals final season. Anyway I really recommend you read up on death of the author and Neil Gaiman’s takes on fanon. It’s a fun way to consume your media, and in the end that’s what I’m here for.

I don’t care what Misha says, and I don’t care what Jensen says! I think they are both queer because I have eyes and watched the show. I think it’s a lovely narrative that is supported by canon, and it’s fine if you disagree with that

On your last sentence there... lol. It’s a common joke in queer circles that gays can’t sit properly, specifically bisexuals. Same thing with the clothing, it’s a SUPER common joke for example that lesbians wear flannel. Maybe you need to go outside and talk to some normal, non-incest shipping queer people. But what do I know!

And finally... ‘the Spanish dub isnt canon’

I am literally cuban. My first language is SPANISH. my entire household speaks Spanish, and my family past 1st cousins don’t speak any English. My Boricua cousins have watched supernatural in full for years, and they watch it in Spanish. Do you think America is the center of the universe? Do you think our media is somehow less than yours, that our interpretations of English language media isn’t valid? What, do you think we are idiots who don’t know how to analyze literature and media? Do you think the people who work at Telemundo, people employed as dubbers and translators, you think they do a worse job than the American crew?

Why, because they aren’t American or don’t speak English? ‘Te amo’ said to a non family member is, in 99% of any instance, ROMANTIC. it’s something you say to your spouse in serious situations like weddings!! Even MARRIED people don’t normally say te amo, everyone uses te quiero unless it is very serious or romantic in context.

All of my family who are Spanish language, they heard dean say ‘y a yo ti, cas’ and think that they were in romantic love. Sorry dude! The United States might be the center of your universe, but Latin America is HUGE. Spanish is one of the most spoken languages in the WORLD. In fact, more people speak Spanish than English. Sorry that you seem to hate gay characters SO MUCH you have to say an entire language somehow isn’t valid to consume media in!

ME: 

Obviously this heller is batshit crazy. 

Some of those things she thinks I said just show she has no idea how to follow a tumblr thread. 

You are a completely disingenuous bitch and I don’t care to be nice to you anymore! I don’t feel AT ALL charitable toward you anymore, and I don’t care if you have gay ships. Gay people aren’t here for you to fetishize! You CONSTANTLY mock and ridicule jokes made by queer people regarding deans bisexuality or Cas being gay or any number of things. You constantly reaffirm that Dean is straight and call people who think otherwise delusional and disgusting, while you think dean is in romantic sexual love with his male sibling.

Wow. 

I have NO reason not to think that you are homophobic. I don’t care anymore! You’re a huge bitch and, judging by your prior responses and posts, a genuine dialogue regarding queerness in spn is impossible. You regard any instance of canonically queer moments ‘lip service’ and so regard it. You actively hate every canonically gay character and degrade them using traditionally homophobic tropes and stereotypes.

Where have I hated canon gay characters and degraded them using tropes and stereotypes? The bitch has me confused with HER FELLOW SHIPPERS. 

Gotta love how she is defending the Spanish dub. Hit a nerve did I? 

It’s a common joke in queer circles that gays can’t sit properly, specifically bisexuals. Same thing with the clothing, it’s a SUPER common joke for example that lesbians wear flannel. Maybe you need to go outside and talk to some normal, non-incest shipping queer people.

Now who is using stereotypes? 

[loving-villanelle]

i didnt mean to sound passive aggressive. you post about how you dont like the writing choices this season, but that doesnt mean the show lacks purpose in its themes and character arcs. they wouldnt make the most important part of the finale something "without much explanation" as you said. there are several possible endings but irina killing villanelle just isnt one of them.

Given how disjointed this season has felt (to me as I can only speak for my point of view) I don't think that any ending will hold much weight with me as I haven't been able to figure out any character's motivations except for Carolyn, who is trying to avenge her son's death. Villanelle is trying to change and be good and we haven't ever been given a very clear explanation as to why she thinks this is necessary. Certainly not for herself, as the changes she was making at the church were performative at best, and Eve didn't want her to change either. So her motivation seems cloudy to me. The same with Eve. She wants so badly to take down the Twelve, but doesn't seem to really understand why or who it's for. Then she finally has a lead in Lars and instead of trying to get information from him, she kills him and then goes back to her hotel room and takes down her investigative board. Then she has a crisis about the choices that she's made when she is the one who has chosen to consistently pursue the Twelve, that ultimately resulted in her marriage and career being destroyed. I think the most important character development by far has been Eve's recognition of the fact that these aren't just things that happened to her, she has been an active agent in them. But at the end of the day, for every one thing they get right, there are 2 or 3 things that just raise more questions and there is no more time to answer. Even early screeners are saying that after watching the finale, they have a lot of questions and feel that things weren't handled as well as they could have been or properly explained/wrapped up. So I think it's safe to say that I'm not the only one questioning the writing choices. We're down to the last episode, nothing to do but wait and see now. This is will be the last week I can theorize about anything, so again you're more than welcome to disagree, but I'll likely be running through every possible scenario, including Irina.

[omisbreakfast]

i rank every summer outfits from a3! because??

because i can. also fuck you.

the first version of this was deleted by tumblr in my drafts and now i have to re write it entirely and i fucking hate it here... anyways.

i’m biased as fuck

sorry it’s a long post

harugumi :

itaru : yeah no actually it’s pretty fine. ngl itaru is kinda hot when he dress correctly so there’s that. also, he’s often in pink. it suits him, but i don’t like it. still.... cute. but it’s also itaru so not too much praises. 9/10

citron : why.......... the shoes.... what the fuck are those shoes.... where did you even find them..... do you wanna fight or something.... this fills me with rage... you’ve disappointed me, citron... also hate the shirt. 3/10

tsuzuru : casual, soft, classic boy... nothing much to say here. but WHY THE FUCKING HAT??? IT RUINS EVERYTHING...... at least wear it correctly PLEASE. YOU DUMABSS. and the shoes would have been better in another color. i just,,,,, why tsuzuru, why the hat... 4/10

sakuya : i can’t bring myself to say bad things about sakuya. (also the fact that i don’t remember what i wrote before the first version of this post got deleted in my drafts pisses me off) but like,,, he’s cute. i mean it’s a classic outfit. tho the choice of the shirt is questionable as fuck. also HES SO TINY BABY. 6/10

masumi : yeah no actually i like it. i really like the shirt for some reason, it suits him. BUT BUT BUT the pants looks weird as hell LMAO?? like... it makes him looks like a crotch less ken doll??? it’s,,, really weird. also the shoes are.... hmmm.... overall good balance but there’s some weird stuffs going on. 7/10

chikage : garbage boy stink man. fucking looks like a rich white boy coming home from tennis and i fucking hate it here ™ if i’m objective about this it’s actually NOT bad but it loses several points for the sole reason that it’s fucking chikage and i won’t take shit for it. 6/10

natsugumi :

kazunari : why. why do you do this. why. why. how am i supposed to ever learn how to love when you backstab me like this, kaz ? what do we do now ? i trusted you and you betrayed me. i can never find love ever again............ yeah ok. pls let’s skip to the next one.... 2/10 (and two points is because it’s kaz and i just can’t bring myself to truly hate him.)

yuki : it’s not bad but i hate this dress. like. his outfits are usually ok but this? no. YOU LOOK LIKE A GOOD CHRISTIAN BOY, DAMN IT YUKI. are YOU GOING TO CHURCH TO PRAISE THE LORD TODAY TOO? also the colour of it... no. 4/10

tenma : congrats you rich boy you finally have a decent outfit ! though i don’t understand the concept of your zip being infront but ok. bet his stans like it smh. also i like the color of his jacket. very nice. 8/10

muku : baby i love u so much but u look like the pinterest girls who take aesthetic pictures in flowers fields and are smiling like the sun @ the camera.......... which is not per se but it’s a whole vibe. also stop wearing orange. it doesn’t go with your hair well........ ilu cutie. 8/10

misumi : my sweet boy. why are you wearing an hoodie with a jacket. why. it’s summer you idiot. you’ll get overheated. stop. but overall he looks very nice. idk i just think he’s neat......... i. i love u @ misumi. 9/10 (don’t look at me)

kumon : he... he looks like.... a j-j-j*ck..... which he is............... i just........... oh my god. i love kumon but he IS a jock i JUST ???? LALFKGKK. also his fucking shoes makes me lose my mind because this is so fucking bullshit ???? so ugly it hurts my eyes.... he’s lucky he’s a good boy. 4/10

akigumi :

juza : nah he hot as hell in this pass on it. if you’re asking yourself why he looks so good, here’s your answer : his arms. his arms are great. i can excuse his sandales this time cuz IT IS summer but yeah. yeah no he’s cute and- yeah. ok. yeah. hm hm. 9.5/10

taichi : so the thing with taichi is that his style is NOT bad per se but like. he’s a skater boy. so my standards are already very low for him,,,, like no offence i love taichi so much but,,,, that’s how it be.... his shirts are usually so big he looks like a GOD DAMN FLAG i can’t with this. and i don’t like how baggy his pants are but yeah,,,, it’s just a whole look.... anyways................ 6/10

omi : in which yosei boys decided to fucking test my patience by putting on classic, good looking clothes and decided to absolutely ruin my entire hopes and dreams (if i’m being dramatic ? no i am not.) AND their WHOLE outfits adding an useless stupid fucking hat thay doesnt seems even to be worn properly. omi, tsuzuru, you’ll pay for this. 7/10

sakyo : (i’m tired as heck and i almost forgot about sakyo when he’s right in the middle) actually i like this. it’s color coordinated and i think that’s very nice. but i wish his pants would have been a little bit longer. yeah no that’s it for real. also idk what’s about this outfit but he really shows how skinny he really is LMAOOO. shithead sakyo. 8/10

azami : the thing about azami is that usually his upper half is pretty well dressed, or whatever, but when we look at his pants/shoes its where everything goes to shit. Like ???? what the fuck man you could have done so much better if you didn’t decide to put this gigantic pants who looks like you’re gonna fly with it or fucking whatever (i don’t need to make sense i’m TIRED) also his shoes bothers me. can’t believe he’s fucking 15 like shut up. 6/10

banri : ...... *inhales* FUCK YOUUUUUUUUUUU. fuck you and your ugly ass little hat and your zombie like haircut i. fucking despise you. if he were standing right infront of me, no he wouldn’t be because he would deck him so hard. YOU HAVE THE MONEY TO BUY CLOTHES AND THE TIME TO TRY AND MAKE IT LOOK GOOD ?? SO WHY???? what’s going on in your ugly ass little head bitch. THANK YOU god he isn’t wearing any animal prints in this, thats one thing. imagine this awful outfit with the ugly shoes and stUPID FUCKING HAT that i hate, with a leopard print shirt.... yeah cursed. i know. sorry banri stans i cant hear you over the sound of your man fishing with joe and bertrand on a sunday morning at 6am. 3/10

fuyugumi :

tasuku : ... idk man. he’s just there. why is... his shoes... so flashy........ bruh...... also he looks like a very straight man and idk how to feel about this. we know u gay bitch. 7/10

hisoka : except for the fucking weird ass pants it’s actually ok. he looks.... very comfy. 10/10 would CUDDLE...... pls hisoka.... i’m tired... fluffy boy..... ugh..... i don’t have much to say about this ok he just.... spare some cuddles. 7/10

actually i like it. well. there’s two things that bothers me. GREEN. DOESN’T. SUIT. HIM. PERIOD. if u think otherwise i’m sorry. it’s just awful with his purple hair (or whatever color it is) imo. and the second..... the square should have been a triangle. i won’t take no’s. 8.5/10

tsumugi : ngl tsumugi gives me little lost boy looking for his mommy vibes. at first i thought it was his outfits but no, it’s just his face. and this ? doesn’t make it better. idk how to explain but how he wears his shirt makes it look like he’s floating and it’s kinda cute in a... special way. he’s just a very sweet boy. 7/10

azuma : i can’t bring myself to even say bad things about azuma... it’s physical. i just can’t. i have a theory his power is that strong and therefore i cannot critizice this beauty. he just. is. ya know........ sigh...... 9/10

guy : if he dresses like this, that’s.... that’s not your man, ladies. that’s your loving, hardworking and dedicated husband who just went to pick some flowers in the prairies next to your little farm in the middle of the nowhere but who’s still paradise on earth cuz it’s the two of you and you couldn’t ask for anything more. deadass. fucking peasants. 4/10

[familyagrestefanblog]

Mini Theory to injured Hawkmoth after Mayura used an Amok on him in “Mayura” + How Chat Noirs Cataclysm works

I finally had a little time off again and managed to get this mini theory done. I wanted to do this for a while now and I'm happy to finally post something again. ^^

Now with Season 3 over and a couple of Mayuras “featherruptions” (as I like to call them) on screen I wanted to pick up this occurrence from the second season finale once more. In s3, after accepting the featherruption, every victim always stayed healthy whereas Hawkmoth in s2 became increasingly weak and hurt. I want to elaborate on this again and state my Mini theory and my reasons.

Some people might already know this theory because I already posted it on this post a while ago. I’m kinda reposting it again because I updated it and I think it’s a bit wasted at the end of another theory.

So here it is again and lets go!

Before “Miraculer” came out I thought people getting hurt by the featherruption would be the normal effect because of the peacocks brokenness. So the victims would get hurt alongside Mayura for at least s3 (cuz before his featherruption Gabriel was completely fine and fighting) but no, every other victim is perfectly fine. Only HAWKMOTH got seriously hurt!

This means that there is a distinct difference between Hawkmoths featherruption and everyone elses. A difference that normally wouldnt be the case. And I think I got it.

The one detail that DEFINITELY is different with Hawkmoth and big enough to be relevant is that Hawkmoths control-object was CATACLYSMED!

To understand why I think the control-object being cataclysmed beforehand would have such an effect I need to clearify that even though I’m often saying that Hawkmoth and Mayura “corrupt” their butterflies, feathers and the victims, its frankly nowhere true at all. I just like saying it like that. What they do is basically just filling the butterflies/feathers with power and let them find a fitting person so they can 1. build the connection between them and the chosen and 2. then manipulate the chosen people so they join them. There is no corruption going on here. Neither do they break or control either the butterflies/feathers nor the people themselves. They power up and manipulate, thats what they do.

The cats power of destruction on the other hand is a whole different story here.

To explain my point in an easier fashion I’ll start with Ladybugs power as a direct contrast to Chat Noirs.

The Ladybug is capable of purifying the akumas and the feathers. “Purifying” IS the right word to use here because something doesnt have to be explicitly “corrupted” to be purified. As I said, Hawkmoth and Mayura power up, that means even if they dont corrupt them they still change the nature of the feather/butterfly and victims and that is what the Ladybug reverses.

So Ladybugs purifying (and the Miraculous Ladybug for that matter) is basically her taking back all the changes other people did to something. Thats whats happening every episode up to “Miracle Queen” and thats why shes once more the one dealing with the feathers. She reverses what has been changed, no other power does that.

The Cat and the Ladybug are equals and since they are also Yin and Yang for each other it also means that not only do they as individuals and the nature of their miraculouses complete each other, their powers too complete the circle.

So if Ladybug can purify (again, meaning that she reverses every damage and everything that other people do to something) the Cat should be able to corrupt everything with his destruction as her direct opposite.

To keep this paragraph shorter lets just explain this with the example from the Heros day.

The Cats destruction and “corruption” is showing itself here with something Chat Noir is doing all the time but on a grander scale: He isnt completely pulverizing the cane to dust, hes damaging and weakening it to the point were it cant be used for neither its original purposes nor properly for anything else anymore and is easily breakable.

In my theory when Chat Noir uses Cataclysm on the cane he not only does the above, he also inflicts the still existing object with some kind of…lets call it a virus.

Now you may ask yourself “Why? Why should Chat Noirs cataclysm destroy something so hard that it loses basically every usage it had + infecting it with an destructive virus but NOT actually destroying it out of existence?”

And frankly, Thomas Astruc already gave an explanation for this after “Reflectdoll” because people were confused by the effect Ladynoires cataclysm had but instead of believing the CREATOR people rather just shrugged off the explanation as nonsense. Again.

If I remember correctly (and please correct me if I’m wrong) it only happened one other time that the cataclysmed object didn’t turn discolored and destroyed after being hit. That being the bus in “Animan”.

But even this can easily be explained with Thomas’ answer.

Because also another answer for the episode “Reflectdoll” was this reply to the question why the lucky charm gave Mr Bug what he wanted when this never happens with Marinette.

Meaning the power of creation adapts to its wearers mindset and when this is the case for Creation I see no reason why Destruction should be any different.

MEANING the bus didn’t turn discolored and destroyed (only lost its original usages) because Adrien was very much aware that it still had to function as a cage (normally the cataclysmed objects serve no further purpose), so the destruction/corruption only spread so far as its wearer pictured it.

With Hawkmoths cane on the other hand you can bet good money that Adrien INTENDED on fucking that cane up. I mean LOOK at him

Yeah no, that cane just became victim of Adriens hatred for Hawkmoth. RIP Cane.

So the default of Cataclysm isnt “destroying it out of existence” because that is not what “Destruction” is. That is “Annihilation”. Destruction and annihilation are two very different concepts that shouldnt be mixed up but everybody is doing it because of how we use the word “destruction/destroy” in our daily vocabulary. That is why probably almost every one of us at least once asked themselves why Chats cataclysm is portrayed so “oddly” in the show. “He’s not really destroying it, hes just fucking it up!” And thats exactly what hes doing because thats exactly what his power is. He’s destroying it so fucking hard that the cataclysmed object could lose every usage it could possibly have (the usages verify with different objects of course)

He’s not messing with it like Roi Singe either, the object could turn completely fucking worthless. 100%. Even the very MATERIAL its made of! But what hes NOT doing is taking it out of existence because THAT is Annihiliation. Not the concept of his power.

Now working with the actual “destruction” concept the destructive “virus” in the destroyed object seems alot more plausible. Because when Chat Noir uses the power of pure destruction on something, really every usage it could possibly have should be able to be affected by it depending on how much Chat Noir wants to screw the object over (and we already covered that Adrien wanted to see that cane dead which I completely understand, Gabriel beat him up with it in “Chat Blanc” so yeah, screw that cane) and THAT also includes the possibility of it being used as a long distance object for Akumatizations or featherruptions for example.

Without the “Virus” Hawkmoths cane would still have had a consequence free use but WITH the “virus” spreading through it the featherruption got corrupted by Chats destruction and hurt and weakened Hawkmoth so much that a limping Gabriel collapsed still nearby and had to detransform out of exhaustion.

And frankly, Mayura only powered up the cane for a really short amount of time. Imagine how Gabriel would have ended up if this had gone longer. He probably wouldnt have been able to recover so quickly afterwards.

[feeling-uncomfy]

This is for u @trademarked-but-not-really do with it what you will :D

There is a blood warning, just a heads up!

Also, Hawks platonically calling Tokoyami baby bird gives me serotonin —

"Goodbye, sir." Tokoyami waved from the front door of Hawks's agency. The sun was setting slowly, the sky was a warm orange colour. Hawks grinned and shot a feather to bump his interns shoulder, hands occupied. "Dont forget to text when you get back to the dorms, okay?" Tokoyami let's out a huff but nods and walks out of the building. Hawks sighs, another day done.

The other sidekicks left in an orderly fashion, each getting the paperwork finished relatively easily, so Hawks was left alone after a half hour. He sighed and looked down at the paperwork left unfinished.

It was his, so Hawks had no excuse to not have it done. Plus, the commission had been on his ass recently regarding his lack of monthly check-ins, which annoyed the winged hero. Why should he still have to answer to them? Hawks huffed and sat down, prepared to sit there and get it done.

Until there was a loud bang at the door.

Hawks sprang up. He had just closed up, why was someone there? He left his office and walked down the hall. He was about to tell whoever was there to piss off, but what he was met with made him freeze.

"Tokoyami?! What—?" Hawks walked up to the door, where Tokoyami was hunched heavily over it, clearly trembling. He didnt look up when Hawks approached, which worried him. "Kid? What's going on?"

Hawks opened the glass door, and Tokoyami fell through. Hawks let out a shout of alarm and picked his intern up, and set him on his feet. "Kid...?" Tokoyami still hadn't responded, his hands were clamped down on his beak, shielding it. Hawks couldn't help the confused expression rise on his face.

"What happened? Answer me, kiddo." He went to touch Tokoyami's beak, but the teen jerked out of his grip, and swayed dangerously on his feet. Hawks stared. It was like he couldn't stand straight.

"What happened? Answer me, kiddo." He went to touch Tokoyami's beak, but the teen jerked out of his grip, and swayed dangerously on his feet. Hawks stared. It was like he couldn't stand straight.

"Kid, I need to see your face, can you do that?" Hawks asked softly, moving closer. Tokoyami let out a pained noise in the back of his throat, but moved one hand. Hawks inhaled sharply. There was blood coating his hand, and it looked like the flow hadn't stopped.

Hawks was immediately put on edge. "Tokoyami, who did this." His voice had lost all hospitality, and Tokoyami scrunched up, clearly taken aback by the dramatic change. Hawks asked again, more urgently this time. Tokoyami couldn't get the words out.

"Did— didnt know what to—" Tokoyami shut his eyes tight again, his whole body tensed as another load of pain shot through his head. It was enough to make him stumble again. Hawks caught him easily, and moved him to the couch. Hawks didnt like how slurred and messed up his interns speech had become.

"Right, stay here, I'll go get you a first aid kit, okay? We'll fix this." Tokoyami didnt react. Hawks got worried. "Kid? Open your eyes, kid" Tokoyami's eyes opened slowly. They were glazed over and lidded. Hawks cussed. "Okay, okay. I'll be right back. Try stay awake for me." Tokoyami's eyes shut.

Shit. Did Hawks need to go to the hospital? Maybe? He should ask Eraserhead? No, the last time he asked about bird related things, Eraser said 'Hawks you're supposed to be the bird expert here.' and hung up on him. So no homeroom teacher. Maybe Dark Shadow would come out and give him answers.

Speak of the devil, Dark Shadow came round the corner. He didnt say anything, but turned and went back the way he came. Confused, Hawks followed. Tokoyami had moved from the couch to the ground. Hard, judging by the fact that the tremors had gotten worse.

"Fuck! Okay, I'm back, come on, up you come." Hakws gently moved Tokoyami to the couch again and opened the first aid kit. Tokoyami sank boneless into the plush couch, and his eyes shut again. Hawks slowly moved to peel his interns hands away from his face.

They didnt budge at first. "Come on kiddo, this'll make it hurt less, promise." Hawks coaxed gently. Tokoyami shuddered as both hands were placed on his lap. Hawks stared at the mess. It was hard to see where the blood was coming from, but there seemed to be a nasty gash across somewhere.

Hawks decided to ease his kid into it by starting at his hands. "Do you know what happened?" Hawks asked gently, pulling out a cleaning kit and wiping the red off Tokoyami's hands. His intern tried once again to get the words out, but it came out garbled and wrong. Dark Shadow came out, resting on Tokoyami's shoulder. "He cant talk properly." The shadow explained quietly, and Hawks nodded, shoving his anger down.

"Can you tell me what happened then? I really need answers here." Hawks was only partially frustrated at the lack of answers he was getting. Dark Shadow grew considerably in size. "Some asshole who doesn't like people with animal type quirks jumped us." Tokoyami's hands started shaking violently as Hawks shot up, wings flaring out.

"Are you fucking kidding me—?!" Hawks yelled. The first aid fell to the ground with a clang, and Dark Shadow flared up more. Hawks took a breath, calming himself. He picked the kit back up and silently cleaned the rest of Tokoyami's blood off of his hands. Tokoyami's hands still shook on Hawks's grip, he realised.

They came to the beak. "How much does it hurt? On a scale of one to ten." Hawks tried to gauge the reaction of the teen, reaching out. Tokoyami shifted back, shrugging. Dark Shadow answered before Tokoyami had a chance to. "He wants to tell you it's not that bad, but it hurts a lot. A solid nine point five." Hawks bit his tongue to stop himself from yelling again.

Tokoyami looked betrayed, but nodded in confirmation. Hawks exhaled slowly. "Okay, we'll I'm gonna give you something for the pain, and then I'll treat you. That sound good?" Tokoyami looked uncertainly over at the meds. More specifically, the needle. It took Hawks a second to realise why.

"...You dont like needles?"

A teen shook his head. That's all Hawks needs. He sits quietly, thinking. How was Hawks supposed to do this? Tokoyami starts opening his beak, but immediately makes a noise of pain and closes it. Dark Shadow doesnt translate.

Tokoyami tried again, slower and much more muffled than usual. "You... dont have to worry... I can—" He cuts himself off with a wince of pain, hand flying up to his beak again. Hawks takes his hand away, gripping tight. "Its okay, dont push yourself."

Hawks looks around for a distraction. If he can manage to get Tokoyami's mind off of the needle situation, Hawks might be able to inject him without a problem. He's used those drugs on his sidekicks and himself before, and they work fast, and are completely safe, a bonus. Plus, considering how small his intern is, Tokoyami should be put straight out, the stuff is strong.

Hawks's eyes land on the T.V. and he grins. He turns it on and flicks through the channels. Someone catches his attention. "Hey, isnt that Eraserhead?" He stops on a talk show. There, in all his glory, is the class 1A homeroom teacher. "He doesn't look very happy." Hawks laughs. Tokoyami is staring, seemingly occupied.

Hawks let's him watch for a little longer, setting up the needle. Dark Shadow noticed, but said nothing and continued to watch. Eventually, Hawks finally deemed Tokoyami distracted enough and quickly injected the needle into his interns arm. Tokoyami visible jolted, but the drugs worked fast and Tokoyami fell quiet, and slumped against the couch after a minute.

Hawks sighed. "Sorry kid..." Hawks turned him over, and got to work quietly. Tokoyami's beak was fragile, so Hawks had to work gently. He wiped a considerable amount of blood away and saw it. He wasnt surprised that it hurt. There was a large gash sliced over the right side of his kids beak. It was a messy cut, so obviously Tokoyami had either been moving or the person had shaky hands. Or both.

Either way, Hawks wasnt letting them away with this. He was gonna hunt the fucker down himself if that's what it took. He cleaned it up and was going to bandage it when Tokoyami's hand shot out and gripped Hawks's arm tight. Tokoyami's eyes were barely open and it looked like he was completely out of it.

Hawks chucked. "Alright bud, go back to sleep—" Tokoyami cut him off. "Hawkszzzz. There'sss dis guy. Dis guy and he keepssssss..." he trailed off, mumbling nonsense. Hawks stopped. A guy? He must really be out of it. Tokoyami continued. "He keepsss followin' me! Amd I dont know why... hess freaky dough. I domf like it."

Well, now Hawks was concerned. Before he could ask any questions, Tokoyami had gone slack again, his breathing evened out. Hawks didnt think much of it, and just bandaged him up. Hawks sat back with a sigh, looking at his work. Tokoyami was oddly calm, Dark Shadow no where in sight.

Hawks turned off the T.V and got up. He'd have to call Eraserhead once he was finished up with his interview, and judging by the yelling he heard, it wasnt going very well. Hawks looked down at the sleeping teen. He couldn't leave him on the couch, but he didnt want to risk injuring him further by moving him and fucking dropping him, which, knowing Hawks's luck, was a very real possibility.

Hawks decided it would be safer to just grab a blanket and wrap his intern in it. At least he'd be comfy, right? Hawks grabbed the fluffy one he'd seen the kid eye after a rough patrol. Hawks manoeuvred the kid and wrapped him into a mini burrito. Hawks smiled and decided fuck it, the kid was up, might as well move him. He carefully walked down the hall towards the elevator.

He asked himself where he would put the kid. The simple answer was to put him in Hawks's room, but his office was all the way down at the bottom floor. Would Tokoyami be able to handle the elevator if the drugs are still in his system when he woke up? Hawks sighed and brought the paperwork with him, playing the safe game.

Hawks sets his kid in his bed, and does the rest of his work quietly, feathers keeping a close watch on his kid as he sleeps without a problem. Hawks finishes his work and sits back, eyes closing. He drifts off, his feathers still active.

The next morning, his feathers woke him. Tokoyami is moving. Hawks groans and stands up, stretching and walking to his room. Tokoyami is sitting up, hands touching his beak with obvious confusion.

Hawks laughs and pushes his intern back down on the bed. "Go back to sleep, baby bird. It's still early." Tokoyami nods and curls up, still feeling exhausted. Hawks sits himself on the edge of the bed, watching his intern as his chest rises and falls. Hawks gets bored after a while, leaving as his phone buzzes.

Erasurehead? This should be fun. Hawks leaves and puts it on speaker. The angered shout that greets him tells Hawks everything.

"Hawks! You are aware of what a curfew is, correct?" Aziawa yells. He's in class as they speak. The rest of the class is confused. Bakugo rolls his eyes and Mina pokes at Asui and whispers something.

Aziawa continues without a pause. "Because I know damn well that Tokoyami wouldn't break curfew, so where is he? I swear if you tell me he's in hospital again." At this Hawks winced as the class perks up on the other end of the line. "Again?" Midoryia turns to Todoroki, who shrugs.

Hawks laughs. "Well, you'll be glad to know we didnt have to bring him this time, but—" Aziawa cuts him off. "Then why isn't he in class?!" Hawks sighs. "Some guy jumped him on his way to the train station, okay? They hit him hard, too."

The class grows nervous as Aziawa stays silent. Whatever Hawks had said must have either shocked him or caught him off guard. "Are you serious? Why—?" Hawks answers with a shrug. "Dark Shadow said something about animal-based quirks."

"Really? Just because of his appearance—" the class falls quiet again. Kirishima shakes Denki's shoulder. "They cant attack someone like that, right? Just because of his face?" Kirishima whispers, and Denki shrugs. Shouji's fists clench. He's delt with more than enough of those types of people in his life. Iida was chopping angrily, and Bakugo looked pissed.

Aziawa is still ranting. He's gotten so angry he couldn't hold his phone, in fear of breaking it. So it went on speaker as he went on a tangent. Hawks finds a good place to cut in. His voice rings loudly in the class.

"Hey, I'm just as angry at you. But the kid is trying to sleep. Maybe keep it down?" Hawks chuckles darkly. "Not like he'll be able to voice his complaints, though."

Aziawa immediately regrets it, but he asks why. "The motherfucker slashed his beak. It'll probably scar, it was deep." Hawks peeked into the room. Tokoyami was still asleep, turned away from the door. Hawks closed the door softly and tuned back into the conversation. Aziawa was yelling. There were other voices yelling, as well.

Aziawa's voice rang clear. "Sorry, Hawks. Gonna have to cut this short. Bring him back around when he wakes up, Recovery Girl will help him. Bakugo! Dont you dare—! Fuck!" The line went dead.

Hawks laughed. Looks like the class knew. He turned to go down the hallway, but stopped when something pulled at his jacket. He turned to see Tokoyami standing, albeit wobbly. The blanket Hawks had wrapped around him hung on his shoulders, and Tokoyami's body disappeared under it.

Hawks smiled softly. "Hey there, baby bird. What's going on?" Hawks moved to support him as the teen almost went down. Slowly, they moved to the kitchen. With Dark Shadow's help, Tokoyami sat on the counter, still wrapped in the blanket. Dark Shadow faced Hawks. "He's wondering how to eat. We're hungry."

Hawks blinked. "I hadn't thought about that...." He trailed off. "We'll ask Recovery Girl when we see her. You wanna go now or do you wanna wait?" Tokoyami shrugged. Hawks shook his head. "Well, let's re-bandage your beak first, then we'll go, sound good?"

Tokoyami nodded and moved to stand. It took a minute, but they got there. Hawks took off the bandages. The wound looked as ugly as ever. "Hey, what did the guy look like?" Tokoyami thought about it. He turned towards the T.V and his face dropped. He pointed at the screen.

Hawks looked. Someone had been murdered late last night. Ouch, it looked brutal. There was something familiar about the wounds though...

"That looks like..." Hawks stared at the wound he was cleaning. "Oh. Holy shit." Hawks snapped his head up, looking for confirmation. Tokoyami nodded, a little too hard, and hissed in pain. Hawks steadied him. "Wait. If the wound is so similar, then..." He turned the volume up.

"The only suspects we have at the moment are the league of villains, and that's because of the dust left behind. Also scorch marks left on the victim's back..."

Hawks's phone lit up as a message came through. He checked it. It was from an unknown number, which meant it was from Dabi.

"You're welcome." Was all it said.

Hawks typed out his reply. He asked why the fuck he would do something like that. Dabi responded with: 'Dude was on our hit list anyways. He should learn to think twice before slicing a league member so close to Shigaraki.'

This left Hawks confused. Dark Shadow said that the guy didnt like people with animal-based quirks, so it would have to be their driver, but the last part....

Oh well. He's dead now. That's all that matters.

He took Tokoyami to Recovery Girl, and she did all she could. Within a week it had scarred, much to Tokoyami's annoyance. He could talk properly, which was okay. Before he got used to it though, he had a lisp. Hawks thought it was adorable. A lisp plus head tilts?? Hawks's intern was the cutest, no doubt.

Hawks grinned as Tokoyami waved goodbye two weeks later. "Make sure you get home this time, okay?" Tokoyami sighed and flipped Hawks off, being the last person to leave.

Hawks laughed. Hopefully this time there would be no unexpected attacks on his intern. Hawks walked to his office and stared at the pile of paperwork left unfinished.

"Son of a bitch—"

This ended on a funny note, though I wanted to make a point on quirk discrimination. With everything that's happening in America right now, its important to say

Black lives matter. They have mattered all along, and they will always matter.

But I do hope you enjoyed! If you wanna see anything else, just ask! I'm always open to suggestions :D

[afterhoursfic]

Ahhhh I love your posts! Can you do geralt axii’s jaskier to rely on him more and more for simple things, eventually needing him to dress him, tie his shoes, feed him, bath him, etc?

Warning: non con, mind control

At the start Jaskier is clearly so clueless about travelling, he can't build a fire, forage his own food, hell he doesn't even have the right shoes to walk in all day.

So naturally all of it falls to Geralt and it should annoy him having to spend so much time coddling him but he likes it? Likes to feel needed and just seeing how grateful Jaskier is everytime he lights them a fire or hands over some food just sends a small thrill through him.

It doesn't last long though, it's only a week later that Jaskier starts collecting wood for their fires and building up the fires, and then he's asking how to light them and Geralt frowns the whole time he explains it. But then when they're walking Jaskier points to various flowers and berries asking if they're safe to eat and Geralt grumbles every answer.

The kicker is when they finally reach a decent town and Jaskier comes running up to him with new boots, sturdy boots, as well as a decent cloak and some thicker clothes, ones which mean he'll no longer plead with pretty blue eyes for an extra blanket or to sleep next to his bedroll anymore.

Geralt should be happy, it means more free time to look after his swords and take of potions/contracts, but it feels wrong, Jaskiers not built to work, he's meant to look pretty as he strings together some pretty tunes.

So that night when Jaskier asleep he tears part of the sole off of one of the boots and naturally Jaskier is distraught the next morning and is ready to go back to the shop to get it fixed. But its early, Geralt made them leave early before anyone else was awake for this reason, and with a promise that he can fix it on the road, Jaskier puts on his old boots, the ones worn thin and make his feet ache after an hour and will have Jaskier begging to come up on Roach.

He never does fix the boots, but a brief axii has that but slip out of Jaskiers mind, especially any knowledge of fires or hunting. In fact Jaskier just sits rather helplessly on his bedroll and strings his lute whilst Geralt does all the tasks, and it's just like old times but now its not enough, he needs more and wants Jaskier virtually dependent on him.

The next night he has Jaskier in his bedroll because he can't sleep in the cold with monsters about, there arent any, but Geralt just holds him close and lulls him back to sleep.

The next day when Jaskier complains about sore feet and pouts far too prettily Geralt caves and lets him up on Roach, an arm tight around his waist to hold him still because he's so expressive when he talks he'd fall off otherwise, at least thats what he put in the axii command.

Now he feeds and holds Jaskiers waterskin when he wants a drink because Jaskier has to keep his hands safe from damage if he wants to play his lute and he just thanks Geralt profusely everytime for the consideration, even when they're in public he'll feed Jaskier, ignoring the patrons whispers around them before Jaskier bounds on stage to perform.

Then Geralt starts bathing him, in rivers its so he can keep a close eye in case of drowners and in taverns Jaskier tends to fall asleep in the tub and hes just there to make sure Jaskier doesn't drown. He doesnt even question why Geralt is the one soaping him up and washing his hair but he's grateful anyway.

And of course in the mornings Jaskier always struggles to wake up so it makes sense rhat Geralt dresses him and they can leave early, Jaskiers just grateful he wont be left behind and Geralt just tugs him closer on the bed so he doesn't fall off the edge.

Then one evening when Jaskiers practicing his lute a steing snaps and cuts his hand. Geralt is there immediately of course to tend to it and well Jaskier shouldn't play anymore if he's going to hurt himself and Jaskier can't help but agree.

Eventually Jaskier just ends up sonething pretty to admire and someone to look after. He has so many axii commands on him he doesn't think he could properly remove them all, Jaskier would always be dependent on him for something, but right now he wraps his cloak around Jaskier on roach because the silly bard forgot it at an inn, its just as well Geralts happy to lend his.

[probably-writing-x]

Forever

Guzmán x Reader

Request by anon: Hi! I love your writing so much! Would you be able to write a Guzman angst sort of based on the song forever by chvrches from the third season where the reader and him got into a big fight over a topic that was super important to reader and then as they both mature they sort of start yearning for the other, regretting everything that happened and they have a big convo where the emotions come to the surface and it’s where the “i regret the night i told you i would hate you til forever” comes in.

Gif is not my own

Requests are open 🤍

Hating someone was an odd feeling, especially when you’d once loved them. It wasn’t the type of hate that you felt for something that everybody hated, or the hate you’d dismissively say you had for the rude customer at work, nothing like that. It was this odd, deepest feeling that you almost had to force yourself into sticking to. Like it was a social construct that you couldn’t defy. An expectation based on previous actions that couldn’t just ease over time. You constantly had to remind yourself of the reason why you’d hated them in the first place and supposedly that gave you reason to hate them now. But that couldn’t always be the case. And in the case of you and Guzmán, you don’t think you’d ever felt that feeling properly - you’d just tried to convince yourself that you did.

Now, it was over two years since you’d split up with Guzmán. Since then, a lot had happened. A LOT. You’d watched him fall into the hands of Lu, a little quicker than you’d have expected him to move on. You’d seen him grow into a completely different person, or so you’d assumed. See him lose his sister and his friendship group come crumbling along with it. And, eventually, start to reach more and more complications come up in his relationship with Lu.

That night, the one where it all ended, would always be one you’d never forget.

“Are you taking the piss Guzmán? I wanted you there for one fucking day! One day! Is that really so hard?” You shove at his chest even if it doesn’t knock him an inch.

“something came up, okay? I don’t know how many times it needs to be said!”

“Something came up? I was sat in court watching a jury decide my father’s future and you’re telling me something came up? You’re an asshole Guzmán. You’re a real fucking asshole.”

“What do you want me to say? I’ve apologised haven’t I?”

“A sorry doesnt cut it. It never will. You’re acting like this relationship is some sort of difficulty for you. It shouldn’t be. You should want to be there for me when I need you. I shouldn’t be calling you five minutes before we go in just so I can check one last time if you have any heart left in you and you’ll actually be there for me,” You shake your head, tears threatening their arrival as they brew behind your eyes, “What is it? Is all of this just too much for you? Am I too much for you?”

He remains silent.

“I’ll never forgive you for this Guzmán, the one time I needed you, really fucking needed you - and you couldn’t even do that,” You purse your lips as they tremble.

“Don’t say that (Y/n)... come on, I messed up.”

“Yeah, you’re right, you really did,” You scoff, clicking your tongue as you regain some confidence, “And when I was sat in that court today, watching my Dad be wrongly convicted of a crime he never committed, there was still nobody I hated more than you.”

“Babe, please... don’t say that...” Guzmán winces, reaching out for you with no avail.

“I’ll never forget that feeling Guzmán. Ever.”

For a while, you’d savoured that feeling of that night. Like it was the final piece of feeling that you had of your relationship with that boy. The boy you’d convinced yourself to love constantly and so deeply even at such a young age.

In the past two years, you’d been through your own version of pain - just as Guzmán had. You’d separated so far from each other that it felt like you’d be talking to a stranger if the two of you ever found yourself back together again. You’d spent months proving your fathers innocence until he’d finally been released and it hurt even more when you didn’t have someone to lean on during that whole process. Even in ending your relationship, Guzmán had never really released that hold he had on you - and he never would do. You’d still always think of him, care for him, love him.

It made you question whether you’d been to hasty in your actions that night. Had you jumped the gun on giving up on him so easily? How much would be different if you’d have held your tongue and let it slide as an honest mistake? No, it meant a lot to you that day and it still should do now. Your own questioning wouldn’t change that.

But damn, that boy had the power to make you question it.

- - - - - -

It had been two years since Guzmán had last properly spoken to you. Two years since he’d seen you laugh at something he’d said, or hit him jokingly when he made rude comments in public. Two years since he’d held your hand and placed kisses on your knuckles. Two years since he’d made the worst mistake of his life and let you slip away.

He’d replayed that night over and over, relentlessly questioning how he could ever be so stupid. He should’ve been there. He should’ve held your hand and kept you close beside him, let you cry into him when you watched the worst day of your life unfold. How could he have ever let you go through that alone? In the last two years, Guzmán had grown immensely. He’d become a different person. And in that growth, he’d learnt more and more of what he should’ve done when he had the chance. With that growth, came a deep-set regret that he could never shake.

It wasn’t as simple as just asking you to forgive him for what he’d done. Like he could just explain his side of things and make that into enough to prove that he deserved a second chance. It was two years too late for any of that, and he could never blame you for not seeing his side of things. Sure, he did have an explanation for that day - but you’d always think you were right. And he knew that what you were going through back then was enough to mean his explanation was never going to be enough. He should’ve been there, despite any possible excuse.

He’d tried back then and it hadn’t been successful. That’s when he’d expected that he’d never get a second chance.

“Come on (Y/n) open the door!” He knocks loudly against the wood once again, resting his forehead against the surface, “Please.”

You had already mentally scolded your Mum for opening the front door to him, but you were relieved that you had a lock on your bedroom door and at least could keep one physical barrier between you. Lord knows you didn’t have the strength to keep up any of your own barriers between him and you.

“It’s been a week babe, are you seriously not going to say a word to me anymore?” He used the nickname so flippantly, so naturally.

“We both made it clear where we stand,” You reply coldly, wrapping your arms around yourself even if he couldn’t see your vulnerability.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t fix this,” He hits his hand on the door again but it’s not aggressive, it’s losing hope.

“Yes it does Guzmán,” You state, taking in a shaky breath as you walk closer to the door until you’re leaning your forehead against it. You wanted to be close to him, despite the door being shut between you.

“No, no. Answer me one question and that will prove it,” He reminds you, “Did you mean what you said?”

You close your eyes as a tear slips between them, dropping to the carpet under your feet.

“Come on (Y/n). Did you mean it when you said you hated me?”

He’s pleading with you and himself for the answer to be no. With every fibre of his body he is hoping that you could never possibly have that feeling for him. Please.

Your lack of response is answer enough. Enough of an answer to shatter his heart into a thousand pieces as he turns against the door and slumps against it, slowly sliding down until he’s on the ground.

You can’t hear him sob but you can feel it in you as you do the same.

Both of you realising more and more that this wasn’t a fixable argument.

- - - - - -

“Shit, I’m sorry,” You mumble to yourself as you stumble into another person in the corridor, bending down to help them pick up what you’d just caused them to drop.

You were already late for the interview you’d been waiting for and this clearly wasn’t a good start. You’d got yourself lost in the building and were starting to think that, at this point, you’d shown up at the wrong place.

“Excuse me, do you know where-“ You start to ask somebody walking past you before you realise they’re on the phone and most certainly don’t want to be talking to you.

You sigh and turn to be met with a sight that, really, is the most unexpected thing to see in this moment.

Only metres from you, with the hints of a warm smile on his lips, stands Guzmán. The boy you’d managed to not say two words to in two years, and now found yourself face to face with.

“Seems you haven’t changed,” He comments, words he didn’t expect to be the first that he said to you.

“You’d be surprised,” You scoff, surprising yourself with those being your first words, “Are you here for the job interview?”

“Something like that,” He smirks, “And I’m guessing you are too.”

“Yeah,” You look down at your feet and swallow the lump in your throat.

Eventually, the silence becomes so deafening and you decide instead to take a seat on the chairs around the waiting area.

“I didn’t expect to see you at a place like this,” Guzmán comments, taking the seat two away from you, “This doesn’t really seem like your scene.”

“And being more than two feet away from Lu doesn’t seem like your scene either - but here we are.”

It’s a harsh response. But you didn’t want the small talk.

He looks down and smirks a little, “Touché.”

There’s a low volume of music playing through the corporate office block and you realise more and more that he’s right in saying this isn’t the place for you. Not one person seemed capable of smiling, and they all seemed to scold each other like they’d grown into hating every piece of existence within these walls. Maybe you didn’t want this interview. The music, however, seemed like your one slice of hope for distraction with Guzmán sat only a metre away.

That is until it turns to one specific song. One from a night you’d probably rather forget. The time you’d first got properly drunk and realised that drunk (Y/n) seemed to have a hatred for clothes and a strong liking for pools. Yeah, that was an interesting night.

Guzmán can’t help but smile down at his feet as the memory floods back to him too. The night he’d had to throw you over his shoulder and carry you out of a house party before you broke another vase and it would become impossible for him to cover it up again.

“Stop smiling,” You state quickly, “I don’t need to relive that night again.”

He laughs and you find it impossible to not chuckle a little too, that night had always been a joke between the two of you.

You don’t look at each other but it’s the most you’ve shared in a long time - laughing together at a common memory.

More and more people filter in for their interviews and you become increasingly certain that you didn’t even want the job, let alone the interview beforehand.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Guzmán asks from beside you, leaning over the chair that separated you so that he can ask quietly.

You eye him for a moment and question every instinct you have before you eventually settle on saying, “Definitely.”

You soon find yourself walking through the corridors in an attempt to find your way out, eventually getting through to some sort of grounds area where you’re surrounded by overly fake plants and turf instead of real grass. The lyrics from that song keep playing over and over in your head, resurfacing a wealth of memories with them.

“I know you won’t believe me,” Guzmán starts, “But I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”

“Oh no, of course I believe you!” You laugh, “Things with Lu aren’t looking good, and you’re not the type of person to want to be alone.”

“It’s not like that,” He rolls his eyes, “But it’s good to know you stuck to your promise of hating me.”

You glance at him momentarily, it was like you hadn’t ever intended to speak those words. They were all just part of this facade you created to convince yourself that you did still, in fact, hate him. Just playing the game, right?

“A lot’s happened recently, (Y/n). With Marina, everything at school, my father, everything - I’ve realised more and more how shitty it is to go through a bad time,” He explains, “I guess I never really understood why you needed me so much on that day in court - you could handle it yourself, and I wouldn’t have changed the outcome.”

“Guzmán don’t use this as a reason to list why I shouldn’t have been pissed at you-“

“No, no,” He stops in front of you so he’s facing you directly, “What I’m trying to say is that I never really asked why you needed me so much - but I get it now. Because in everything that’s happened, I realised that the one person I needed... was you. And not to make the situation better or to solve the problems or anything, but just for you to be there.”

You look down at your feet and take in a deep breath, “I don’t know what you want me to say Guzmán. That was two years ago.”

“Right. Two years where I’ve realised more and more that I had an answer to that question. One that I should’ve answered when you first asked,” Guzmán explains, “You asked me if this was too much for me, if you were too much for me. Instinctively, I would say no. Why wouldn’t the answer be no?”

You look back up to him because it seems like these are words that he’s been waiting to speak for forever.

“But of course it’s yes. You’re not too much in what you ask for, what you expect. You’re too much in how good you are for me. You’re too kind, patient, supportive- and I didn’t realise the extent of that until I didn’t have it.”

His hands reach for yours and he holds onto them with so much hope that you start to believe it too for just a moment. In those eyes, in that soft grip, you’re starting to see the blurring of your past and the rewriting of your future. You snap out of it too quickly than your heart would’ve liked you to.

“Guzmán,” You push away from him, stepping past to get him out of sight, “What do I say to that?”

“What do you mean?” He sighs, “We’ve had two years to realise how much has changed and how we’ll never find anyone as perfect for each other as we are. Isn’t that enough?”

You turn around and take in his full appearance. Looking at every piece of him that had grown and matured so much in the past twenty four months. Those broken pieces that life had caused and the parts of him that had just about started to heal. And the heaviest wash of regret sits atop your shoulders, heavy enough to knock you down. You’d told this boy that you hated him. That you always would. And that was a regret you’d held ever since.

“I just need you to ask yourself if you think we can recover from what happened that night. But I’m going to ask you one thing I asked you a week after, now two years after - did you mean it when you said you hated me? That you’d always hate me?”

You let out a shaky breath, “I’ll always regret the night I told you I’d hate you forever.”

In those words, it’s like Guzmán is tearing down every piece of every barrier that had built up between you two. He strides toward you and his instant instinct would be to kiss those lips that he’d been waiting to kiss for years. But this connection was deeper than that. And when his arms wrap tightly around you and he engulfs you in that same scent from way back when, he expresses much more than a kiss ever could.

“Seems you haven’t changed,” He mumbles into your shoulder, referencing his words from earlier as he smirks against your skin.

You pull back and cup one side of his jaw in your hand, “You’d be surprised.”

He chuckles and dips his head to finally press that kiss to you, strong and certain.

Yeah, surprised was one word for whatever he was feeling. And he’d savour that mix of emotions for as long as he could, letting it erase away all of the pain.

[bigskycastle]

ask

Yup! I’m gonna use this ask to answer the other ones finally lol

Hehe that’s a cute idea.. that’s sort of what I imagined the “special ready” effect is, but it would definitely be cooler if instead of just glowing/moving a bit their hair cycled through a bunch of colors

Hi! Oh that’s pretty broad uhhhhhhhh id say.. well. it’s N from pokemon bw but most of the characters I end up liking are just, like, silent protags lol

Honestly? at first nervous and uncomfortable because I very much forgot how to draw humans. But i’m feeling tons better about it now and having a lot of fun with it^_^

Awh thank you ! ❤ you’re also cool

Good at the moment! Got a 4 day weekend every week now so I should (maybe?) be able to be more active here. Also FINALLY have a doctor’s apptmt today so i can see someone about my mental health shit and possibly, perhaps, potentially actually get help lol

You’re sweet, thank you❤ I’d like to redo my spectrum piece at some point just because i think i’ve evolved a little stylistically since I finished it, but I still like it despite that. And ty again! They’re very relaxing for me now lol, I’m glad we (against all odds) got a zelda game with one

I think I first saw a streamer playing it when I dropped by their twitch page on a whim, and I saw all the clothing options and immediately decided “i must buy a switch just to play this game”. The fashion aspect is still one of my favorite things about it lol. 

I think my Favorite part has to be the singleplayer modes, in partic agents though (predictably), bc they’re exactly the sort of “mostly blank slate” characters+worlds I get attached to.. I’ve always rly enjoyed sort of filling in the gaps left behind in media, even if that means what I end up loving at the end is 90% headcanon stuff. I think that’s the best way 2 interact with media anyway. making it more personal. 

It’s always very cool seeing everyone’s different takes on the agents/splat world, and it’s Very cool how I can post a pic of, like, agent 3 and have a bunch of different people each see a totally different character, you know? But yeah i like the shoes in splatoon

Honestly kinda rough but I’m trying! I’ve started college now and the people there are nice enough, plus it’s got incredibly cushy hours and is pretty light on actual “learning”, but it’s good, I needed some kind of break from academia before I straight up died

I’m happy you enjoy it anon!!!!!! I will :-)! I’ve got a lot planned for zelda art in the near future, i just have to finish some commissions and stuff before I can properly work on it

I’ve never “studied” officially, but i’ve been drawing for like, 5-6ish years now? I didn’t pick it up until I was about 10 and didn’t rly commit until I was maybe 12. The course i took at college is meant to be art-focused, however, the stuff they’re teaching is like.. not a brag! but stuff I do already know. Like, a tutor tried to explain what “pixel art” is to me on my first day. I mostly took it to try and learn some Maya skills because I do want to pick up 3D art one day!

Ty! This question’s pretty similar to the last so i’ll put it here. I’ve been slacking on my actual studying a bit, most of what I do is force myself to draw anything every day. Doesnt matter if its a wonky doodle of a face on the back of a napkin or if its a full illust, its practice, it counts. Also, trying to shove myself out of my own comfort zone by doing things like environments and very detailed things (motorcycle.). It’s very rewarding just to look at something you made and think “I thought this was impossible before right now”.

hmmmmMm... I can’t think of any just off the top of my head but my friend @nickymemer (I think?) put the idea of Zelda, whenever shes sick of link and her dads’ collective shit, just running off to gerudo town to hang out with urbosa and the rest of the gerudo court, in my head and i love that a lot

Thank you thank you! As of rn it’s botw but that’s probably because it’s the only one i’ve played by myself. I watched a 30 hour longplay of twilight princess and really loved that though. I did watch an lp of both majora and ocarina but I get the feeling i’m missing a big part of the experience of both bc i’m not playing them. (That or they’re overhyped.) If i get a bit more cash at some point I’ll probably get both on my 3ds.

Alright that’s all I think! Thank you everyone ❤

[demyrie]

I'm curious but why did you delete JAM? It was one of my favorite JxD fics and I never got to finish reading it.

ahhhh oh dear, yeah, that happened.

So, for everyone arriving, I wrote a fic called Just Another Mission for the Jak and Daxter game series, and Jak/Daxter pairing. Yes, the green haired elf protag with the fuzzy orange thing, which btw used to be a human and was a human in fic. I think I started it when I was maybe 14 (yikes omg) and a few years ago, I deleted it, and I don’t delete fics.

Rant and personal history ahead, but tldr; i deleted this particular fic because:

1) I became more and more uncomfortable with the way I’d treated certain characters without giving them respect or resolution (throwing around things like domestic abuse while being too young to properly understand What I Was Doing or How to Answer Very Triggered Friends Who Had the Misfortune of Reading This I’m So Goddamn Sorry, as well as falling into that Not Like Other Girls slash fan ditch of treating female characters like shit/obstacles to the main pairing WHICH IS JUST ******) as well as personally uncomfortable portrayals of obsession and taking advantage of people that turn my stomach to this day (see reason 4)

2) i got way in over my head with my own writing/style which was so obtuse and self-indulgent that I felt a great amount of shame over it, including the attention it had gotten, and the way it went to my head and turned me into an egotistic little shit. I was an asshole peacock and I regret it. There was a break where I got waylaid before the final confrontation in the fic (see reason 4, also a very bad time to get held up in any narrative) and when I returned to the story, i nearly cried because it was such a mess and I didn’t know what I was saying anymore. Finishing it was a struggle and I even remember one JnD fan friend being like “hey this chapter seemed really curt??? short?? not like you” and I was like YEAH THATS NOT ME ANYMORE god i hope

3) there was a sort of ... anti-JxD surge in my little pool from people I really respected and it made me think i was doing something wrong even just remembering it, so I cut off that memory.

4) it coincided with two ugly relationships in my life that marred it, and I just wanted it gone for my own mental health.

So anon, I’m very sorry that you never got to finish it. I had good intentions in mind and gave them a happy ending where they realized they loved each other, even if the journey there was difficult. 

It both touched me and broke a piece of my heart when someone came to me years ago and asked me why I had deleted it, saying the story had given them the courage to come out as gay to their family. In that moment, overwhelmed with how ProblematicTM the whole story was, I was really struck with just ... how subjective our world experience is, and how so many things can mean so many different things to every single soul and how terrifyingly VALID peoples experiences are, no matter how they come by them. We’re all so unique and convoluted, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure -- and one man’s trigger is another man’s key to Becoming. But no matter how inspiring, I couldn’t bring myself to repost it. 

Hopefully this will be the only fic i ever delete with relish. Jak and Daxter will always be a good memory for me, regardless. Thanks for the ask, anon.

(even more) personal stuff below the cut. tw for stalking, harassment, manipulation and emotional abuse.

So.

Im a firm believer in stories living beyond their authors (something that JK rowling doesnt seem to understand iykwim). I don’t normally delete past works, because while I wrote them, I also know that they’ve outgrown me as most narratives do: people are absolutely allowed to enjoy what they want to or need to, not just because I think said thing is reflective of my current work or jives with my current stage of life. 

However, JAM was a particular Thing that Had to Go.

The timeline is hella fuzzy to me because I’ve blocked a lot of it out, but I was coming out of middle school and struggling with my mental health. On the real life side, I was stuck in a situation with a close friend of mine who was very fixated on us being in a relationship and the pining was loud enough to hear from the other side of the country. Wounded people pleaser that I was, I flipped (exhaustingly) back and forth between “i dont like you like that” and “but I want you to be happy so what if I tried liking you like that?” and there was massive amounts of hidden hurt and resentment and tension and abandonment complex activation and just ... a strangling of anything that made our friendship good for either of us. 

Also she was a she. So. Yannoe, gay is difficult.

This definitely burnt me out on the “best friends pining” trope and is probably legit the ONLY reason I’m not equally in the erasermic and erasermight camp haha. That trope feels claustrophobic and draining to me, so I leave it for others to enjoy.

It also coincided with a married 45yo adult man luring me into a “platonic, ecstatic, boundary-breaking, you-are-my-beautiful-young-muse, words cannot express how much I love you” creative type relationship that inevitably turned possessive, domineering and manipulative. Within the bounds of the Renaissance Faire community, I thought he was a safe person and he was not, and his constant reassurance that I wasn’t like other women my age was absolutely hypnotizing to a undeveloped soul who really, really wanted to be special.

We traded poetry and tarot card readings over email. He bought me manga and shared stories about his time overseas and in the service. He made me props to go with my renaissance faire character and showed me where to find cheap leather so I could piece things together myself.

He also stalked me and owned me for the better part of a year and I only realized it once he started harassing a dear friend of mine overseas, whom I was visiting, about a package that he’d sent, which apparently he’d covered in original poetry to let me know how much he loved me But Not In a Hetero or Sexual Way Bro, so of course he didn’t want it to get lost in the postal system. So what is he going to do? Note my friend twice a day asking if its arrived until she inevitably, tearfully spills that this guy is stressing her out and who is he anyway?

My horrible secret was out, which only sounded horrible when I explained it to someone else. I realized this man was trying to follow me wherever i went and I got so fucking angry that he was messing with my friend that I had to stop it.

(He called me a cunt when I broke it off with him on the phone in the dark on the floor of my bedroom in the middle of the night so my parents wouldn’t hear, then sobbed and said he was sorry. I was so dissociated from the rush of anger and helplessness that it took for me to actually MAKE the call that all I could do was wiggle my foot and watch it in the reflection of the mirror on the back of my door, and think maybe I was a cunt but I wasn’t his cunt anymore. So there. 

Afterward I slammed my forehead into the mirror a few times to make sure I’d actually done it and it wasn’t a dream.)

During all of this, I was writing this stupid fic. I think. Honestly, I don’t fucking know, but I can’t think of it without thinking of him and how i was devoured.

The stress of hiding this “totally wonderful but NORMAL PEOPLE DONT UNDERSTAND WHAT WE HAVE!!!!” grooming shit from my parents was gutting me alive, and I was so far gone RE: worthiness/autonomy that I didn’t even consider why I BOTHERED diffusing his petulant accusations over notes on deviantArt again and again as he baited me into shit just to explode over how I didn’t love him and I figured out another way to soothe his engorged and tarry ego without explicitly lying that I loved him too. 

He made me regret my silver tongue and way with words as I used it to defend myself again and again, and crushed my love of writing. I would pace the neighborhood for almost an hour several times a week, claiming I was ‘exercising’ but really trying to understand why i felt so trapped, or where the lines between love and hate lay, or why I wanted to cry all the time, as i low key tried to get hit by a car just to force something to change in my life and jolt me out of his smothering, needy nightmare of constant texting and emails and notes. I couldn’t fucking flinch without him knowing about it, and asking me if I was okay. For this reason, I react very poorly to people fretting over me at length, and loudly. I get angry and feel violated, or just pinned to the floor by someone Performing their love on me with no real regard for my health.

This whole time, I was escaping into fandom. It probably saved my life, in one way or another, because I found friends who supported me and made me laugh in the JnD sphere. Especially the friend whose distress caused me to snap and realize This Couldn’t Continue.

This terrible man was the first one outside of my friend group that I showed my writing to, the first adult as well. It was on the dark side even then, but he said it was wonderful and amazing. He teased me for being stuck up in my authors notes on JAM (one of the reasons I’m just getting over ... talking ...) but said it inspired him to start writing as well. He used that writing to imagine hokey sprawling stories of him being a hot rod racer and me being his sexy girlfriend, Very Totally in Love. Why Couldn’t We have Just Met in a Different Lifetime??? not that its a relevant question for my young 16yo friend lol just something dreamers wonder lol lol here why don’t you take this traditional irish engagement ring aka claddagh i bought for you, lie to your parents and say I bought one for everyone in our renfaire group, and turn it toward your heart, to imply that you’re in love, so that I can keep your heart safe for you until you find a boyfriend?

FUCKER YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKER ok I’m done. Fuck.

JAM was a project of mine that spanned a year or two and is intrinsically tangled in those very bad relationships and very bad lessons. I deleted it because I needed to, for purely personal reasons beyond the fact that it was generally bombastic, over-long, tone-deaf and dealt with very serious issues poorly. Due to these experiences, you won’t catch me in a hot minute writing either best-friends-pining or heavy jealousy/possessiveness fic, but everyone else? Go crazy just tag your shit.

so. anyway. isn’t subjectivity actually terrifying? You never know what something can mean to someone else. So just ask, maybe.

Damn, son. Some fics you just can’t repost.